Date: Mon, 14 Oct 2002 12:21:23 EDT
From: Tulsadriller7@aol.com
Subject: Tales from the Ranch, Chapter 16/?

Disclaimer:  The following story is a work of fiction.  If you
are offended by descriptions of homosexual acts or man/man
relations, please exit this page.

TALES FROM THE RANCH
Copyrightc 2002 by Tulsa Driller 7.  All rights reserved.

This is a story of men who have two common interests.  You will
see that they love the land where they live and work, but it is
also the story of young men who love other men and their coming
of age in a culture of prejudice and misunderstanding.  It is a
story, which deals with difficult and often disturbing issues
but, nonetheless, issues which must be confronted in today's
world.

This is a work of fiction and in no way draws on the lives of any
specific person or persons.  Any similarity to actual persons or
events is entirely coincidental.  This work is copyrightedc by
the author and may not be reproduced in any form without the
specific written permission of the author.  It is assigned to the
Nifty Archives under the terms of their submission agreement but
it may not be copied or archived on any other site without the
written permission of the author.

PLEASE:  In a perfect world AIDS doesn't exist.  My characters
have unprotected sex.  I hope you use proper precautions because
I'd like you to be around the read the last chapter of this
story.

Tales from the Ranch
Chapter 16:  Monday afternoon
     Ray Evans had two messages waiting for him when he got back
to his office Monday afternoon.  They were both for the same
thing; one from Marty and the other from Craig.  He listened to
the answering machine:
     "Hi Ray.  This is Marty Williamson.  I've picked up a set of
plans from Craig and we've looked them over.  Guess the next
thing is to find out when you can get started and also if you
want to use any of our ranch crew.  We have three men who work
for Dale that can be available to help part of the time.  Give me
a call when you can.  Thanks."
     "Hello Ray.  This is Craig Bastian.  Marty has picked up the
plans and I've gone over them with him.  He didn't see that any
changes were necessary.  Let me know when you are going to start
on this so I can make room in my schedule to make sure you can
read this full set of plans.  Talk to you later, Ray."
     Ray laughed as he thought to himself.  'Full set of plans.'
He had never had a full set of plans for anything they had done
at the Bar-W Ranch.  However, Marty was easy to work for, Craig
provided the necessary drawings and they went from there.  Both
trusted Ray and his partners to question anything they didn't
think was right.  It wasn't like some architects and clients
where they wanted full control over every saw cut and wanted to
make sure the nails went in straight and not at an angle.  No,
this would be an easy job to complete and everyone would be
satisfied.  He and his partners, Keith and Andy, would be able to
make a fair profit on the job and still do it faster and at a
better price than any other builders in the area.
     He took a chance that Craig might still be in his office and
called him.  Sherry answered the phone and transferred the call.
Craig picked it up on the first ring.
     "Hello."
     "Craig, Ray Evans here.  I understand that you are
conducting a free class in elementary blueprint reading."
     Craig laughed.  "Yeah, Ray, I am.  But first you have to be
able to tell the difference between a straight line and a curved
line.  As I understand, you can't do that."
     "You got me there.  Well, I didn't want the job anyway.  I'd
rather work with a first-rate architect.  Is Don around this
afternoon?" he kidded.
     "Hey Guy, life's tough sometimes.  'Fraid you're stuck with
me."
     "I was afraid of that.  And you got the good guy before I
could get to him, too.  What did you do, offer Dale some candy?"
he laughed.
     "Yeah Guy, I gave him a big lollipop."  Craig was laughing
by now and having trouble talking.
     Ray picked up on the joke.  "I'll bet you did.  Listen, I
need some pointers on how to meet a stud like you found."
     "Obviously, the only studs you know anything about are two-
by-fours."  This conversation was fun.  Craig had never had the
chance to 'camp' like this before and was enjoying every minute
of the barbs they were trading back and forth.
     "You're sharp.  I would like to spend a casual evening with
you guys sometime.  I'm new at this life and I know you are, too.
Maybe we can have drinks and dinner sometime, my treat," Ray
said.
     "That would be fun.  We really don't know any other gay men
in town, except for the few people at the Dignity group last
evening.  I think it would be nice to get to know some of the
other people.  We probably can all help each other."
     "Let's plan on it.  Now, the reason I called is to let you
know that I'm going to have my crew out at the Bar-W tomorrow
morning to set the elevation and mark out where they are to dig
the basement."
     "That's good news.  I'm sure Marty will be pleased.  Once
you get the site established, we can have a construction meter
set by the electric company and make plans for the other
utilities."
     "We'll be there at 9 a.m. with a crew.  Shouldn't take us an
hour to establish what we need.  I'll have an excavator there
right after lunch.  Do you know if Marty wants the dirt hauled
off the property or dumped somewhere on the ranch?  That should
be good dirt at that site and he could sell it if he wants to."
     "I'll have to check with him.  They may have some areas they
want built up.  Let me get him on the phone and I'll have an
answer for you in the morning, if not before."
     "Thanks, guy.  Really appreciate you getting on this right
away.  Hard to believe that we just talked about this last
Tuesday morning."
     "Not a problem, Ray.  Glad you are able to get started on
this right away."
     With that they hung up.
     Craig dialed Marty's cell phone and he picked it up on the
second ring.
     "Marty Williamson," he answered.
     "Hi Marty.  This is Craig."
     "And hello to you, Mr. Bastian," Marty teased.
     "Mr. Williamson, I am the bearer of the news that Mr. Evans
and his crew will be at your place at 9 a.m. tomorrow morning,
ready to set the site elevations and mark where they are to
excavate dirt."
     "Hey, great.  What do we need to do here?"
     "Marty, they plan to start digging the basement about 1 p.m.
and I guess the main question right now is what do you want them
to do with the dirt.  Ray seems to think that you could sell it
as it should be good quality soil and probably can be used to
backfill or for fill dirt.  You may also have someplace that you
want to use it on the ranch."
     "Let me think about it.  I may have to check with Dale to
see if he needs to build up any areas along the river."
     "Okay, just wanted to let you know.  I'm going to call the
electric company to have them set a construction meter.
Hopefully they can do that within the next couple of days.  If
not, Ray has a generator on a truck that will supply what they
need for power saws.  The electric cop-op is usually pretty
prompt in responding to requests of this sort," Craig replied.
     "This is exciting news.  It's amazing that we were just
making preliminary plans for this last Tuesday."
     "Yes, well I know you like to move quickly and I had the
time to do this right away."
     "Thanks for calling me, Craig.  I'll see you in the morning
and will have the answers you need then."
     The connection was broken.
     * * * * *
     Dale was back at the hay barn in a little less than 45
minutes and there were only six bales of hay left to be put on
the conveyor.  'Good timing,' he thought to himself.
     He crawled up into the barn loft and was pleased with the
job Michael and John had done in stacking the hay in the loft.
He watched them put the final bales in place.  There wasn't room
for another two dozen so the space worked out just right.
     As he crawled back down, the two followed him out of the
loft.  Pat had shut down the engine and was ready for Dale to
give him instructions for moving the equipment.
     "Let's take the conveyor back with us now and then we'll
bring back two vehicles and tow the four trailers back to the
equipment area.
     As they were fitting the conveyor onto the trailer hitch on
the pickup, Michael congratulated Dale on his promotion.  "I
understand that Mort is going to retire and you are going to take
his place."
     "Yes, that's true.  It's going to be a very intense training
period for me between now and the end of the year."
     "Who's going to take your place as crew foreman?" Michael
asked.
     "I don't know and that's not a priority to fill that
position as I can do it along with Mort's job until we find the
right person."
     "Will it be someone who already works here?" Michael asked.
     "I don't know.  We haven't even discussed that and probably
won't for a few more days.  There are several other decisions
that are more pressing right now."
     "Do you think I might have a chance?" Michael asked.
     "It's possible.  But - no promises," Dale said.  "We haven't
established a job description at this point, so officially, the
job isn't there, yet."
     "I'd like to have a chance at it, if it's possible," Michael
said.
     "Okay, but understand.  No promises at this point.  Is that
clear?" Dale asked.
     "Yes.  I just wanted you to know that I like working here."
     "You do good work.  We'll just have to see what develops.
Nothing may happen for several months."
     The conveyor was hooked to the trailer hitch.  John and Pat
got in the bed of the pickup and Dale and Michael rode in the
cab.
     Dale received a call on his cell phone as they were driving
back to the ranch.  It could only be from Craig.  No one else, at
this point, knew he had a phone or the number.
     "Dale Richards," he answered.
     "Hi sweetie," came a familiar voice.
     "Hi yourself," Dale responded.
     "Just thought you would like to know that Ray Evans plans to
have a crew at the building site tomorrow morning at 9 a.m. to
set the elevations and mark out the basement.  Then an excavator
crew will be there about 1 p.m. to dig the hole.  Marty will
probably talk to you, but a decision will have to be made
regarding where the dirt is going to go.  You can either keep it
at the ranch or probably sell it."
     "Oh, okay, thanks," Dale said.  He felt a little awkward in
talking to Craig in front of Michael.
     Craig didn't pick up on this and said, "Just wanted you to
be thinking about it because Marty may see if you need to us the
dirt for some filling in low areas."
     "I appreciate that.  I'll do some thinking and let Ray know
in the morning.  Thanks for calling me," he said.
     "Hey, guy, I need to look out for my lover."
     Dale was embarrassed.  He hoped that Michael couldn't hear
any of the conversation from the other end.
     "I appreciate that.  I'll see you later.  Bye," Dale said.
He pushed the off button and realized that he hadn't given Craig
a chance to say goodbye.  By the same token, he realized that
nothing had been said that really wasn't ranch business except
for Craig having said, "I need to look out for my lover."  He
felt better about the phone call.
     Michael wasn't even paying any attention to what Dale's call
was about.
     They arrived back at the ranch and towed the conveyor to the
equipment area.  It took all four of them to unhitch it and move
it into storage position.  Dale instructed John and Pat to clean
it up and grease it while he and Michael went back for the hay
wagons.  Dale let Michael drive the pickup and he drove his own
new vehicle.  He thought that he might as well "break it in" for
ranch use.
     That trip didn't take more than 20 minutes total and the
little bit of loose hay blew off while they were moving down the
road.
     By this time it was 5:30 so Dale had them sign the
timesheets for the day.
     "Tomorrow we'll start cutting and raking the clover hay that
we're selling.  We will have to bale it, but not pick it up.
They will come get it on Friday," Dale told the fellows as they
were signing their timesheets.
     * * * * *
     Michael, Pat and John left in John's car to drive back to
the Starlight.
     * * * * *
     Jason and Kevin rode the bus home.  The Riley twins weren't
on the bus and no one seemed to know where they were, although
they had been in regular classes during the day.  No one on the
bus was concerned they weren't among the passengers, nor did they
care.  Jason was excited about the fact he was joining the Boy
Scout troop that night.  He was going to join Wolf Patrol because
his friend, John Clark was a member of that Patrol.
     The Patrol Leader was Scott Maxwell, who was a junior in
high school.  He was the oldest of the 8 boys, being 16, and
Jason would be the youngest of the Patrol at 11.  The troop would
be having a campout the next Friday night and Saturday on the
river on Bar-W ranch property.  Jason was really excited at the
prospect of doing something he considered very grown up.
     * * * * *
     When Coach Eddie Thompson finished Phys Ed class and the
last of the boys were gone from the locker room, he looked
around; spotting two towels that had not been thrown in the dirty
towel container.  He sighed as he picked up the towels, tossing
them in the hamper with the rest.  'When would these kids learn
to be responsible?' he wondered.
     He headed toward the common office shared with Paul Dennison
and the two women who were in charge of the girls Phys Ed
program.  Paul was sitting at his desk and Eddie sensed that he
wasn't in a good mood.
     He was right.  Coach Dennison was never in a good mood.
     "Hello, Paul," Eddie said as he entered the room.
     Coach Dennison didn't bother to say hello.  He immediately
launched into his latest tirade about whatever was currently
upsetting him.
     "Heard you put the Riley boys out of your last hour Phys Ed
class today.  Glad you aren't putting up with any of their shit.
They are going to be as bad as their brothers were when they were
their age.  Pete and Donald were absolute hellions and I couldn't
ever get them tossed out of my classes.  Just put them on the
sidelines and told them to keep their mouths shut."
     "I think the biggest problem is that Larry and Jerry don't
know how to relate to people." Eddie started to say.
     "Don't tell me how to entertain them during my classes,"
Paul said.  "If you want to mollycoddle them you are welcome to
do so, but the world doesn't need people like them.  They are
just trailer trash."  He was starting to raise his voice.
     "I heard that you got a sack full of shit deposited on your
front porch, too.  Did you make a report to the police?" he
demanded.
     "No, I didn't even think about it.  There wasn't any damage
so there was no reason to.  Probably whoever did it is just
waiting to see if it made it to the police blotter in the paper.
     "I called the police and they sent some wimpy-assed rookie
out.  He didn't know what to do except fill out a report.  He
wouldn't even take it for evidence."
     Eddie had to smile at that news.  He couldn't imagine doing
anything except to get a shovel and either bury it or put it in
the trash.
     Paul was starting to get wound up.
     Eddie decided that this would be a good time to leave.  Paul
certainly had different ideas about how to handle problem boys
that he'd been taught, or his short experience had taught him.
He gathered up his backpack and headed toward the door.
     "Did you get them out of your class permanently?" Paul
demanded.
     "I didn't try for that.  They didn't want to participate in
our last hour soccer game, so instead of sending them to
detention, I sent them to a guidance counselor.  I don't know who
they saw, but maybe that person can get through to the boys that
we'll treat them like they treat everyone else."
     Coach was about to get even madder; Eddie could tell because
his next statement was delivered at about half volume of a full
tirade when he got wound up.
     "The administration has played around with the older boys
for years, never giving them the discipline they deserved.
That's why Pete is 19 and still a junior in high school.  Donald
is 14 and in the seventh grade.  It's a waste of the taxpayer's
money for us to baby-sit them.  If it was up to me, I'd bounced
their asses so high that they would never be able to sit down
again."
     Eddie was tired of listening.  "Sorry, I've got to go.  Need
to be somewhere by 4:30," as we walked out the door.  "Have a
nice evening."
     Paul swore, mainly because he thought Eddie had walked out
on him and not given him a chance to orate on what he perceived
to be his answer to the social wrongs of the world.  "Damn
faggot," he said under his breath.
     Coach really didn't know that Eddie was gay; he just thought
he was too nice to the kids and that was going to get him in
trouble when he had to come down hard on some of them for not
following orders.  That really was kind of the way Paul thought
of himself - a drill sergeant.  Maybe he should get a job at a
boy's military school.  Nah, that wouldn't work for him.  Those
places didn't hire anyone without a military background.
     Eddie might be part of the problem, but he wasn't the answer
to them.  Paul knew how to discipline boys - at least in his own
mind.  The rest of the world didn't agree with him, but he didn't
know that and wouldn't have believed it if someone had had guts
to tell him so.
     No, he'd heard that Eddie lived with another male teacher.
Tom Bryant, the history teacher who had come to Austin School a
year ago.  He knew that Tom was popular with the other teachers
and the kids liked him.  He was probably weak and let the kids
run over him, just like Eddie was doing.  Maybe they deserved to
live with each other.
     Eddie went to Tom's classroom, but the door was already
locked, so he knew he'd already set out for home.  The two guys
had bought a house about 3 blocks from the school and it was
easier to walk back and forth than get the car out of the garage,
drive, park it and go to their classroom.  He knew, because one
day just to check it out, they left the house at the same time,
Tom driving his car and Eddie walking.  Their agreement was that
they would meet at Tom's classroom.  Eddie got there first - a
full 45 seconds before Tom.  They hadn't bothered taking either
of their cars since, unless the weather was bad or they had to go
somewhere during the day.
     A few of the other teachers had figured out that the guys
were gay, but generally it wasn't discussed.  They fit in well
with everyone, kidded around and took part in the various
activities the teachers were expected to lend their help to.
They actually ran around with a couple of single women teachers.
Gayness had never been discussed, but they were all comfortable
being in each other's company and there was no pressure to date
or escalate the friendship into something more than it was.
     If anyone had asked either of them if they were gay, they
would have told the truth - unless they thought there was an
ulterior motive in the question.  For instance, they would not
have admitted it to Paul Dennison under any circumstances.  No
use having a dumb-ass jock coach on their case.
     Eddie's thoughts were to the evening as he walked home.  He
thought Tom was going to the grocery store after school and if he
hadn't left yet, he'd go with him.  Otherwise, he had a project
to put a computer desk together for the computer Tom wanted to
buy.
     He and Tom didn't have any stereotyped roles that some gay
guys had.  Neither could say they were the "wife" or the
"husband" in that relationship.  Sure, Tom prepared the meals,
but only because he had more experience.  Eddie enjoyed helping
out in the kitchen, but he would never take on a project such as
baking a cake or doing the laundry unless he just had to.  Tom
was content to do that.  However, on the other hand, Eddie liked
to do the yard work and had turned their backyard and part of the
front into one of the prettiest yards in the neighborhood.  Tom
liked to work in the flowerbeds and had actually planned the
replacement of trees and shrubs, but he didn't like to do the
digging and moving dirt as did Eddie.
     Their sex life had always been that they were versatile with
each other.  Again, no male/female roles for them.  They each
enjoyed being on either the giving or receiving end of a good
fuck or blowjob - or whatever else they might do with or for the
other.
     Eddie started up the steps to the front door and it opened
as he stepped on the porch.
     "Hi Sweets," Tom said as Eddie walked in the house.  After
the door was shut they exchanged a passionate kiss.
     "I'm not complaining, believe me, but what prompted that?"
Eddie asked.
     "Just glad to see my guy this evening.  Missed you at
lunch," Tom answered.
     "We had a coach's meeting at noon that I'd forgotten, about
the upcoming basketball season and were trying to decide about
fielding a team of 11 to 14 year olds - fifth to eighth graders.
If we have enough interest we can divide them into younger and
older teams."
     "Would this be an after-school activity?" Tom asked.
     "Yes, but I might not be involved if it's only seventh and
eighth grade boys."
     "How soon will you know?"
     "They are going to put out signup letters next week and mail
them to all of the parents.  They will have to be returned a week
later and we'll see what happens then."
     "I'm sure that if you are involved, it will be a good team,"
Tom said, kissing the end of Eddie's nose.
     They hugged each other, enjoying the feel of the other's
trim body against them.
     "I had a thought I want to run by you," Tom said.
     "What's that, Hon?" Eddie asked.
     "Would you like to invite Craig and his new friend, Dale,
over for dinner one evening this week?  I think they would be
nice guys to know and get acquainted with."
     "That would be fine.  We kind of know Craig from church and
the Dignity meetings.  Dale has helped coach a couple of little
league teams the last two years, but I never had a chance to talk
to him."
     "If it's okay, why don't I see if Craig is still at his
office and invite them?" asked Tom.
     "Sure, okay by me."
     Tom picked up the phone in the kitchen after he looked up
the number and punched in the digits.  Sherry, their office
person, answered the phone.  Tom identified himself and asked for
Craig.  The line went 'click' and Craig answered.
     "Hello Tom, how are you this afternoon?"
     "Great Craig, and you."
     "Can't complain.  We have a new project starting in the
morning so I'm trying to tie up some loose ends here today so I
can be on site tomorrow.  By the way, congratulations to you and
Eddie on being the newly elected officers of Dignity.  I'll
expect great things from both of you."
     Tom laughed.  "Well, for this group to work, we're going to
need the help of everyone who is interested.  This isn't just for
Eddie and me, it's for all of us."
     "I understand.  Whatever you need done, let Dale and I know
and we'll do it if we can."
     "Glad to hear that."  Tom paused.  "Eddie and I would like
to invite you and Dale over for dinner some evening this week.
You both seem like great guys and we'd like a chance to get
acquainted and find out about the two of you."  He laughed.  "No
interrogation type thing, just good food and conversation among
the four of us.
     "That sounds good.  I don't know what Dale's plans might be
for evenings this week, but don't think he has anything.  Can we
get back to you on this after he gets home from work?"
     "Sure, not a problem.  Our phone number is 555-2132.  We're
getting ready to go out after a bit, but should be home by 5:30
or so."
     "That's okay.  Dale generally gets home between 5:45 and 6
o'clock anyway."
     "Great.  Look forward to hearing from you.  Have a good
evening."
     "You too, bud.  Later."
     * * * * *
     Craig was pleased to hear from Tom.  He didn't know either
of them well, but their brief conversations at coffee hour and
the Dignity meetings were enjoyable.  He thought they would be
well matched to Dale and himself as friends.
     * * * * *
     "Craig has to check with Dale and he doesn't get home from
the Bar-W until around 6 o'clock.  He'll call us then after he
finds out what might work for them."
     "Sounds like you have it organized already," Eddie teased.
Tom liked to plan dinner parties and other social gatherings.
     "Do you want to ride to the grocery store with me?" Tom
asked.
     "If you want company.  Otherwise, I'll put that computer
desk together."
     "Come on and ride along.  It's still early enough that we
can get through the store fairly quickly.  Most of the mothers
are already at home with their school-age kids and other people
haven't gotten off work, yet."
     They went into the garage and got in Tom's restored TR-6,
his pride and joy.  It had been his father's car and he had
babied it after he got it new in 1975.  As he got older, he drove
it less and less, but still took care of it.  For a surprise, he
had it restored and gave it to Tom for a college graduation
present.  Tom had always enjoyed being allowed to drive it when
he was old enough, but had completely been bowled over when it
was given to him.
     To their knowledge, it was the only TR-6 in Williamsport and
the "British Racing Green" made the car stand out wherever they
drove it.  It was a neat car, they both thought.
     Tom was right.  There were few customers in the store.  His
other favorite time to shop was about 8 a.m. on a Sunday morning.
He almost had the store to himself at that time.
     They picked up the things on their grocery list.  Tom picked
out a pork loin roast in case the guys came for dinner that week.
He would roast it regardless, but that would make a good entree,
with dressing, mashed potatoes and gravy and vegetables.  The
rest of the stuff was pretty routine.  Fresh vegetables, orange
juice, coffee, flour, paper towels, beer, snack foods and a few
canned goods.
     As Tom stacked the purchases on the turntable for the
checker, Eddie started writing a check.
     They each carried a sack to their car and were back home
within 40 minutes after they set out, including a stop at the
liquor store to buy wine and scotch.
     * * * * *
     Tom had come to Williamsport two years ago.  He and Eddie
met each other shortly after he had signed a contract to teach in
Williamsport.  At first, after they decided to become partners,
Tom was going to stay in Houston to be with Eddie.  But, neither
of them really liked the big inner-city school where they taught.
The kids were from a lower social-economic section of town and it
was not satisfying to try to teach them.  Eddie had applied for a
job in Williamsport, but there was not an opening.  However,
after Tom got here and talked to Mr. Tate, the principal at
Stephen F. Austin School, he was told to have Eddie reapply right
away because there was going to be an opening due to a
retirement.  He did and was assured of the job immediately,
signing an early contract which would allow him to actually start
and work in the summer little league program run by the school
system.
     It seemed like a long year for the two lovers as they had
been together about a year when it was time for Tom to move to
Williamsport.  It was about 190 miles one-way between Houston and
Williamsport, but most of the route was either Interstate or 4-
lane divided, so could be driven in about 3 hours.  There were
few weekends that one or the other of them weren't on the road.
Of course, Tom wasn't about to drive his TR-6 on a trip like
that, putting on a lot of miles.  He traded his old Chevy that
he'd had since high school in on a new Pontiac Grand Prix.  It
was a lot nicer to drive because of being a hardtop coupe and air-
conditioned.
     Every weekend Eddie was in Williamsport, they went to open
houses to see if they could locate a place to buy.  They ended up
with a place built in 1970, but in an older neighborhood that was
3 blocks from the school where they would both teach.  They
signed a contract and took possession the weekend Eddie made his
move from Houston.  It was good timing.  The house was in good
shape, just needing new paint, wallpaper and carpet.
     It was a brick ranch-style house, but all of the trim needed
to be scraped and painted.  They changed the trim on the
variegated brick house from white to a medium green and it made
all the difference in the world in the appearance.  The place
seemed to "bloom" with the new color.
     It didn't take them long to get the house into shape and
then Eddie started in on the front yard.  There were two pin oaks
in the front yard, which provided shade, but the shrubs had
become overgrown and when trimmed back they looked even worse.
So, the major project that summer and fall was to remove the old
shrubbery and replace it with new.  At the same time, they added
a couple of berms in the front to break up the flat lines of the
house and yard and put in a couple of huge beds of perennial
flowers.  Not only was their house the newest on the block but
was the most attractive yard, too.  There was something to be
said in favor of gay guys moving into an established
neighborhood.  They almost always improved the looks of the
houses they bought.  That, in turn, usually inspired their
neighbors to spiff up their places, too.
     The next project was to completely re-landscape the
backyard.  They added a small pool that was only 5 feet at its
deepest, but was a "free-form" design.  At the same time, they
had a couple of trees removed that produced a lot of trash in the
yard.  It seemed that any little storm caused twigs and leaves to
fall and also produced an abundance of seeds in the spring.
These two trees were replaced with shorter, flowering trees and
shrubs were replaced with others so there was always a display of
beautiful colors throughout the growing season.
     They were proud of their house and had every reason to be.
It was set up for entertaining and this they did with ease and
grace and they seemed to know more straight people than gay
friends.
     * * * * *
     Tom and Eddie were a good match for each other.  Both were
25 years old and had grown up in the Houston area.  Tom had
attended Rice University and Eddie had attended Texas Southern
University.  Their paths crossed the first week of their teaching
career at Horace Mann Middle School.  They met at a faculty mixer
and were immediately attracted to each other.  Each had a fair
number of gay sexual experiences in college and was aware of the
other looking his way when he could.
     Tom was about 6'1", weighed 190, auburn hair, which was
neatly trimmed, and brown eyes.  He was a looker.
     Eddie was a little darker in complexion, probably because he
tanned easily and spent at lot of time outdoors.  He was 5'11",
weighed about 170, brown hair, cut short and had hazel eyes,
which seemed to have gold flecks in them.
     Both were wearing cargo shorts, polo shirts and sandals,
which showed off their hairy legs and some of the light fur on
their chests.
     Neither was shy and Eddie struck up a conversation with Tom
at the first chance he could.  They hit it off immediately and
each had well-developed gaydar that was pinging away to the
other.  Before the evening was over, they ended up back at Tom's
apartment.  Eddie spent the night and had moved in by the end of
the second week they knew each other.  They were pretty evenly
matched.  Both enjoyed sports, although Tom enjoyed watching
while Eddie like to be involved, playing on a soccer team and an
adult baseball league.  Tom was always along to cheer him on.
     They were wrapped in each other's arms almost as soon as
they shut the door at Tom's apartment.  They didn't need to sit
and talk, pretending about anything they were not.  It was pure
lust and they were good in bed together, achieving new heights
they hadn't experienced before.  But, the pure lust turned into
pure love and they were as devoted to each other as any two men
could be.  They loved to tease the other and enjoyed being a gay
couple.
     Living in Houston, there was a large gay community in the
Montrose area and this is where Tom's (their) apartment was
located.  So, they were used to going out for an evening, to the
movies, dinner, to the bars in the neighborhood and holding hands
as they walked down the street.  That was the only thing they
missed about Houston, being around other gay men and women and
the feeling of self-confidence they had.
     Moving to Williamsport had seemed strange, but they loved
the rural surroundings and it was close enough to Austin they
could be at a gay bar in 25 minutes from leaving home.  But, as
they established themselves in the community, their trips to
Austin became less frequent.
     Still, they each felt there were probably a lot of closeted
gays in Williamsport and they were confident enough in their
sexuality to see about starting a Dignity chapter.  This is where
Father George and Paul came in.
     * * * * *
     George Tikker had grown up just outside Birmingham, England.
His father was the Vicar of the Anglican Church in Boatbridge on
the Skye Canal.  George was somewhat on the wild side, as most
clergymen's children seemed to be.  He was always in scrapes and
most likely was the instigator of one prank or another he and his
friends played on people in his neighborhood.
     Of course, like most kids who were about 14 years old, their
prank making turned into masturbation sessions after the first of
the group discovered what one could do to pleasure himself.  To
begin with they would wank themselves, although not all could
have a wet orgasm at that point.  Later they got more brave and
started wanking the others.  One thing let to another and a dare
led to one boy sucking off George, then he did it to another boy,
as it felt good to him.
     They almost got caught a couple of times, but soon
discovered that the bell tower at the parish church was a place
to go where they were not likely to be discovered.  The only
problem was that the sexton rang the church bells every hour and
the first time that happened, it scared all of them to death.
Later they learned to stuff their ears with cotton and watched
the clock to see when the bells would start sounding.
     Since the ring was accomplished in less than a minute, it
didn't halt their sexual activities.
     Wanking and sucking soon led to other experiments and it
wasn't long before one of the boys attempted to put his willy up
another's bum.  The only reason this didn't work was that they
had no lubrication and hadn't discovered that spit would do in an
emergency.  Soon, one of the boys filched a jar of petroleum
jelly from his bathroom and that became a permanent fixture in
the bell tower.  The boys took care of replacing it as it was
emptied, but there was never a time it wasn't available when
needed for a good slick wank or fuck.
     By the time George finished his courses at University, he
had decided to become a priest, but decided he liked the American
version of the Anglican Church better.  His father encouraged him
to go to Wisconsin and attend seminary at Nashotah House outside
Milwaukee.  The churchmanship practiced there was "high church"
and had turned out a number of clerics who went on to important
church positions and also as Bishops.
     George didn't want to "out" himself to others in the
seminary and soon discovered that Milwaukee's gay bars were an
easy bus ride from the school.  So, on evenings when he had no
duties in chapel, he was off to entertain and be entertained.  He
was usually lucky enough to get a ride back in someone's car and
all of the young men watched out for the other, seldom reporting
lateness in getting in after curfew.
     After completing his studies, he was ready to be ordained
and the big decision was if he should remain in the United States
or return to England.  The Archbishop of York had, his father's
mentor, sponsored his going to Nashotah House, so he felt he owed
it to return to his Diocese to be ordained as a Deacon.
     He was assigned to his first post as a Curate, supplying in
place of a vicar at a small church about 20 miles from where he
grew up.  He was there for a year, then was reassigned to more
responsibilities as a chaplain at a boys school.  Being a Deacon,
he couldn't celebrate the Eucharist, but he could perform
baptisms, weddings, and funerals and give communion with reserved
sacrament, essentially performing as a Vicar but not being able
to say mass.
     It was at St. Hugh's Boys School that he met Paul Rathborne,
the school organist who was studying with the organist at a large
church, St. Mary's in Birmingham.  At this time George was 24 and
almost ready to be ordained to the priesthood.  Paul was 22.
     Their friendship soon developed into a torrid, hot love
affair.  Since Paul was on staff at St. Hugh's, he also had a
small room there in the faculty section.  It was not as large as
the two rooms George had and since they were in the same wing, it
was easy for Paul to sleep with George in his room.  Only a
couple of the faculty was aware of the relationship and they had
their own secrets to keep so weren't about to say anything.
     When the Bishop of his Diocese determined that George was
ready to be ordained as a priest, he again called upon the family
friend, the Archbishop of York to preside at his ordination and
perform the ceremony, which was held at Coventry Cathedral.
Paul, of course, planned the glorious music and executed it with
the help of the cathedral men and boys choir and a brass ensemble
he took from St. Hugh's School.
     It was an ordination to make any priest proud and the church
was full of clerics whom George had known as he was growing up.
     George served now at St. Hugh's as priest in charge of the
religious studies, but could now celebrate mass.  Of course, Paul
saw to it that the music became even grander since there was no
opposition to anything he wanted to do.  George was in favor of
improving the choir, something Paul had tried to do, but was
rebuffed by the Dean of the School.  Now he had free reign with
George's new position.  It wasn't long before his efforts were
noticed and St. Hugh's choir of men and boys was soon in demand
to perform at area churches and the cathedral in Birmingham.
     After a year with no prospects for them going to a larger
church they decided that the United States offered possibilities
of a new challenge for each.  Again, George talked to the mentor
he and his father shared.  He made an appointment with the
Archbishop of York and took Paul with him to the meeting.
     His Grace listened with an open mind and thanked them for
being frank; assuring them he had an open mind.  He told them
that quite frankly he couldn't pull off finding them what they
thought would be the ideal assignment, but offered to contact
several bishops in the Episcopal Church in the United States.
George heard back from three, who passed their credentials to
churches in their dioceses.  Again, they heard back from three
large parish churches.
     The first was in upstate New York.  They had an established
music program, but did not practice the "high church" ritual they
were interested in.
     The second church was in California.  There was no men and
boys choir, however, they had a good adult choir.  Again, the
churchmanship was not to their liking.
     Then they heard from St. James the Less in Williamsport.
The church had had an Anglican priest from the very beginning in
1850 and was proud of that tradition.  The present
organist/choirmaster wanted to retire.  The church had a good
adult choir, but wanted to establish an "English Cathedral" music
program.  Furthermore, a wealthy family had offered to purchase a
new organ for the cathedral-like building that was St. James.
     George and Paul made it very clear from the beginning that
they were gay and wanted to locate where their talents would be
used and appreciated.  There was little opposition from the
Vestry (the governing body of the parish church) although the
Bishop of Ft. Worth had balked.  He was reminded that St. James
contributed more than its allocated share to the Diocesan budget.
Strangely, that was the last heard in the matter of hiring George
and Paul.
     The two traveled to Williamsport to visit the church and to
see the area, falling in love with the building and people as
they met everyone.  The rectory needed to be remodeled and that
project was completed, giving them a new "grand old house" to
move to.
     Of course, Paul was thrilled with the prospect of a new pipe
organ and Schantz in Orrville, Ohio was chosen as the builder
based on the excellent instruments they had built for churches
over the entire United States.  Paul, working with the Schantz
Tonal Director, came up with a rather grand specification,
actually larger than was needed for the parish, but it was
approved and Marty Williamson happily wrote a check for a
memorial to his grandparents - $825,000 for 90 ranks of pipes on
4 manuals.  Paul and George were ecstatic.  Their dreams were
coming true.
     The organ was installed a year after the two arrived to
serve the church.  By this time Paul had a well-trained choir of
men and boys, augmented by a few adult women.  A grand dedication
was planned, using the organ, choirs from the area and a brass
ensemble.  George invited his mentor and the Archbishop of York
came to be the celebrant at the solemn high mass of dedication
with George assisting as co-celebrant of the mass.  Paul
scheduled an organ recital for that afternoon at 4 p.m.  There
were so many people who could not get into the building that
after a quick decision, Paul agreed to repeat the recital at 6
p.m.  The church was full for the third time that day.
     The Archbishop was the highest-ranking prelate to ever be at
St. James and that established the parish as "the place to be"
that day.  Those who didn't attend one of the celebrations had
missed out on a grand occasion.
     Because of the efforts of George and Paul, the church was
growing and membership had increased by almost 200 people in the
three years they had served St. James.  Other churches wanted to
hire them away and offered more money, but their hearts were in
Williamsport and they were not going to leave - not after what
people had done for them.
     The most important thing to them, other than serving their
Lord was that they were accepted as a couple and no one thought
anything was out of the ordinary with that fact.
     * * * * *
     (to be continued)
     * * * * *
Author's Note:  This is my first attempt at gay fiction, and the
only way I can learn whether or not I should continue is from my
readers' feedback.  I would appreciate your comments, criticism,
suggestions, and anything else that you would care to say.  All
Email will be answered.  If you wish to receive e-mail
notification of subsequent posting, please let me know by sending
your request to the e-mail address below.  Contact me at:
tulsadriller7@aol.com

Thanks for the overwhelming response to previous chapters.  I
received positive replies from all over the world.  My special
thanks to RW, whom I've known for many years and value his
suggestions.  Also for the proofreading help of Paul Daventon,
author of  "Turning the Page" found in the "Adult-Friends"
section of Nifty.  Please read it.