Come Christmas Steve

Come Christmas Steve Chapter 26 Ill Winds Blow

The wind blew hard on Saturday night bringing with it an end-of-winter storm. It kept me up. I'd slept through many a storm in the upstairs of our ranch home, but this one seemed especially loud and violent, determined to get my attention. I wrapped myself in the heavy quilt and willed myself to sleep. Sleep only came in short fits, however. Between the restless bouts of it, I worried. I worried about Steve, I worried about the obnoxious reporter asking questions about Whittaker, I worried about Colt, and I worried especially about Colt's crazed father. I even worried for little Daniel whose life was about to get turned upside down through absolutely no fault of his own. I had so many people to worry about, I nearly forgot to worry about myself.

I welcomed the morning. I rose earlier than necessary just to bring an end to the unpleasant night. I showered and dressed in my church clothes and went downstairs and practiced the piano song I was working on - Amazing Grace. I was slowly getting better, and the better I got, the more fun it was to play.

One by one, my family emerged, Mom first. She smiled appreciatively at my practicing and song choice. She went about preparing oatmeal for breakfast. After breakfast we loaded into the Suburban and all headed to church. At Billy's suggestion, we were attending the non-denominational and hopefully, non- confrontational Christian church that Jaime's foster family attends. Billy had more motivation for doing that than a desire to get some religion, obviously. Mom and Dad were all for it, since none of us ever intended to darken the door of Reverend Lew-ass's church again.

We arrived and Jaime lit up when she saw Billy. Billy took her hand and gave her a kiss. We followed and Jaime introduced us to the foster family she'd been staying with. They were all very nice just as Billy had indicated. Billy verified that he would be able to pick Jaime up from school on Wednesday and her foster mother was appreciative for the help. We found an empty pew and Jaime went with us to sit by Billy. They held hands and made eyes at each other throughout the service. I noticed several people sneaking glances at them and at all of us really, being new faces, I supposed.

The service was very nice and the pastor seemed cool. He spoke on faith and the importance of putting your trust in God when times are rough for you. He said that just because you accept Christ and follow his commandments to the best of your ability, it doesn't mean that you won't have problems in your life to deal with. He pointed out how persecuted the early Christians were. He said the real reward of living by faith was having the inner peace that comes from knowing you are doing the right thing in spite of the consequences and understanding that Christ's love extended to you and sustains you. Having a knowledge of His resurrection, helps us understand that we don't live just for this life alone. It really hit home with me. I felt good and comfortable in church for the first time in a very long time. I decided I'd like to meet with this pastor and find out what his feelings were about gays.

After the closing hymn, the congregation stood while the pastor and two of his deacons made their way to the exits. After they were in place to be able to shake hands, people started filing out from the back pews and then moving towards the front. We were fairly close to the back so it wasn't long before we made our way to the door. The Pastor thrust his hand towards me and grabbed a firm grip on mine. "Welcome, Shane," he said to my surprise. "I'm so glad you found us. I'd like to meet with you sometime. Would that be all right with you?"

"I guess. How did you know who I was? Have we met before?" I asked.

"No. we haven't met, but even though I'm pretty busy with my pastoral duties, I do find time to watch the evening news now and again."

"Oh yeah. Of course. Sure, we can meet sometime. I'd like to talk to you too," I answered.

"Great. I actually have an opening this afternoon. Will 2:00 work for you?" the pastor asked. He pulled his cell phone out and stepped back a step to let other church-goers pass by.

"I'm totally open. I have nowhere to go and nothing to do right now while my legal mess is going on. That's why I didn't realize that you would naturally know who I was. I don't ever get out of the house, so I forget that my face has been all over the TV."

"Okay. What's your address then?" the pastor asked. I supplied it and he quickly entered in his calendar. "Fantastic. I'll see you later then. I'm pleased you joined us today," he added with a smile and a second handshake.

On the way to the car, I wondered what he wanted to talk about. I suddenly became aware of all the surreptitious glances I was receiving. People wanting to get a look at the alleged gay pedophile without being too obvious about it. Suddenly, I wanted to get back home and stay there. I picked up my pace and jumped into the back seat, slamming the door. I dropped my face into my hands and waited for Mom to finish her conversation with a woman that she knew somehow. Dad was standing beside her but clearly not engaged in the conversation. Billy got his final good-byes in with Jaime and came in and sat next to me. "What's up with you?" he asked.

"Nothing. I just want to get back home."

"Why? I thought you'd be glad to get out of the house for a while," Billy responded.

"I wanted to, yeah. But now I want to get back. I'm not interested in being the freak show any longer."

"Oh. That. Yeah, well it happens. People are curious, you know. What did the pastor want with you?"

"He wants to come visit. He knew who I was. I suppose he wants to tactfully request that we, or I, don't come back. Why else would he want to come visit and make the appointment on the same Sunday that we first showed up?"

"Hmm. I hope not. That would suck. Jaime said he seems pretty cool. She says he's not so uptight about everything. Sucks if that's really what he wants."

"Yeah. Kinda sucks all right. So do you get people looking at you when you go out?" I asked.

"Sure. But probably not as much as you do. I mean, your face has been out there a lot more than mine. But, yeah, I do. Hell, I'd probably look too if it was someone else from here on TV like we are. It's just natural."

"I guess," I agreed. I was glad that Mom finally quit visiting and got in the truck. On the way home, Mom went on and on about how much she enjoyed the service and how nice the pastor was and how happy she was that she knew a couple of people and they had actually been nice to her. The more she went on, the more guilt I felt knowing that the "nice" pastor was planning a visit to "nicely" ask us not to come back. Once we got home, I made the announcement that he was coming. All Mom could say about it was how nice of him to come visit and started thinking about what kind of treat she could bake. I didn't burst her bubble. I figured the pastor could do that for himself.

I changed into jeans and t-shirt and practiced the piano. I found immense distraction in the process. I felt no small degree of satisfaction in getting through the last song in the training booklet so that I could move on to the next level. When I finally tired of practicing, I went up to my room and read poetry from the book Steve had given me. I sat at the computer and wrote down a list of all the things I wanted to remember to ask him and to tell him about. I was so excited for the upcoming visit, I could barely contain myself. I lost track of time until Mom called up that Pastor Nichols was here to visit. I took a deep breath and steeled myself for a fresh assault, then headed down the stairs.

I walked in to find Mom pouring fresh apple juice to go with her warm oatmeal and raisin cookies. Pastor Nichols stood and greeted me when I walked in. Everyone else was already in the room. I sat next to Billy on the overstuffed couch and folded my arms.

"Thanks for letting me come by on such short notice. I just wanted to properly introduce myself and thank you for attending today," the pastor began. I was still skeptical that the other shoe was about to drop starting out with a big but. And sure enough, there it came, "But," he said, drawing it out.

I interrupted him. "Okay, Pastor, I get it. You didn't need to come all the way over here just to tell us you don't want us to come back to your church. I know I make everyone uncomfortable and they all think I'm going to lure the young boys off somewhere for some disgusting buggery like some kind of pedophile pied-piper. So don't worry. We won't come back." I was fighting my emotions and stood to escape. I'd been thinking about that little speech ever since leaving the church.

"Actually," Pastor Nichols said calmly and unfazed by my emotional outburst, "I was about to say, I was worried that you might have felt uncomfortable because some of the members tendency to cast glances and even stare at you. You are a pretty notorious character in our town right now and I'm aware of how unfairly you were treated by Reverend Lewis. I wanted to assure you that you are completely welcome in our congregation and with your permission, I'd like to address the matter head on in next week's sermon. I'd hoped to get your okay for that ahead of time and make sure you planned on returning."

I felt a hot wave of embarrassment wash over me. Mom was glaring. Pastor Nichols held his gaze on me without any hint of resentment over my rant. "I'm sorry," I muttered. "I ..." Pastor Nichols cut me off before I could explain.

"I completely understand and please don't worry about it. I fully understand your assumption. I should have clarified why I wanted to meet with you when I set the appointment. Forgive me."

He was so gracious. "No. Forgive me. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions," I apologized.

"Again, fully understandable, considering what you've been through. I just want you to know that judgment is reserved for the courts and most importantly, the court on high, where Christ presides. I plan on making that the point of my sermon next week, with your blessing, of course."

"Sure. Thanks." I didn't know what else to say.

"How wonderful," Mom exclaimed. Dad and Billy relaxed and took long drinks of their apple juice to chase a bite of their cookie. We visited for a while and I felt like I wanted Pastor Nichols to know my side of the story. I spent a good hour giving him all the details of the Yellowstone fiasco and also the nightmare of the entanglement with Uncle Arty's sex ring. He listened intently and laughed about me getting locked out of my hotel room naked, in spite of his efforts not to.

At last, Pastor Nichols excused himself, but not before asking Mom for her cookie recipe. Of course, Mom beamed and rushed into the kitchen to copy it down. When he shook my hand at the door, he said, "I believe what you've told me, Shane. I'll pray for a successful outcome for you and Billy. Thank you for coming to worship with us and thank you for sharing your story with me."

"Thank you. I can't even tell you how much it means for someone like yourself to show some understanding and trust in me," I responded. He smiled kindly, the kind of non-judgmental, kind smile I imagined the Savior himself would have. I got tingles as he gripped my hand a bit tighter and looked into my eyes.

"I'm just so happy!" Mom exclaimed as she closed the door. "So happy."

"So am I," Dad agreed. "So am I. Good people are out there after all."

"He rocks, just like Jaime said about him. He's way cool for a church guy," Billy chimed.

"I'm going for a run," I said. "I need to think about all of this. You wanna come with?" I asked Billy.

"Nah. I'm gonna call Jaime."

"Okay. See you all in a while then. I think I'll do three laps today. I think I'm ready to step it up a bit."

I hustled upstairs and tossed on my running gear. Since it was later in the afternoon, I chose to wear sweat pants and not just a hoodie. I stretched out and jogged down the stairs out the front door and down the back lane to the fence line. "Thank you, God," I said out loud as I fell into my pace, "for sending Pastor Nichols and restoring my faith that good people do exist." A warm tingle ran through me again as I spoke the words.

By the third lap, I was feeling the strain on my calves and lower back as I approached the stand of trees near the canal road where I'd encountered the reporter asking about Whittaker. I could see there was another white vehicle parked on the canal road and I worried they had returned. I was not in the mood and decided I'd just completely ignore them and keep on running. As the tall figure emerged from the trees, I stumbled to a stop instead. My heart nearly burst from the accelerated pounding and my stomach tightened to the point I thought I might vomit. Sherriff Withers stood in the middle of the road in street clothes, scowling and tapping his steel night stick into the palm of his left hand.

"What?" I asked when I found my breath and my voice. "What do you want?"

"Some explanations to start with," he groused. His neck was tight and I could see veins bulging.

"About what?" I asked, still laboring to catch my breath.

"Don't play stupid, you know damn well about what."

"No, I don't. What do you want me to explain?" I asked.

"Why are you fucking with my kid?" he seethed.

"I'm not!" I shot back. "I haven't done anything with your kid."

"Bullshit. I have phone messages you've been relaying between you and that slutty girlfriend of your brother, and you showed up at his rodeo yesterday claiming your name was Daniel. So don't play stupid. What have you done to him?"

"Nothing! Listen ..." I paused, realizing I had to be careful what I said so that I didn't end up putting Colt at risk. "I have not touched your son. He sought me out for advice. All I've given him is advice and most of my advice has been to stop trying to contact me and to talk to you. But, he's afraid of you."

"Advice? Why the fuck would Colt need any advice from a perverted pedophile like you?" the Sheriff growled. "You may not have physically touched him yet, but I know what you're trying to do. You're grooming him, just like you were grooming those boys at the school. I know how you boylover creeps work. You work on getting their trust at first and then get them to like you and want to please you and then you start with the sex stuff. Well, not with my son, you don't!"

"NO! Listen, I'm not a pedophile. I have no interest in young boys except to care about them. I have no sexual interest in Colt. I do care about him as any normal human being should care for someone else who is troubled and scared. I cared about the children, boys and girls, at the school as people and I wanted them to be happy and successful, but I have no sexual interest or attraction, I swear." I was getting nervous about how this was going. I was visibly shaking and unable to control it.

"Sure, save that bullshit line for the judge. I swear, if I find out you've touched my boy, you won't live to see your trial. I'll personally execute you, slow and painful. Clear?"

"Clear," I answered. He was not rational and I decided my best option was to not poke the bear. I decided it might be best to grovel and appease him.

"So what was your plan? Huh?" he asked. "Take an interest in his rodeo sport and then slowly talk him into meeting you somewhere private and play some sick kind of game to get him naked? Maybe you'll let him play with you first before you mess with him? Was that your plan?"

"What? No. I have no plan. He just needed to talk. I talked to him and asked him to leave me alone. Honest. He begged me to come to his rodeo. He wanted a little praise for something he's good at."

"From you? Why would he do that if you weren't messing with his head? Putting ideas into his head that you're his friend and that you want to do things for him? I know. I know how you guys work. I've seen it. Oh yeah. Next you start buying things for him and asking him about how strong he is. You get him to take off his shirt and show off his muscles for you. Right? Get him comfortable with showing his body off to you. That's your first step. I know. I know how you work."

"Look, I've told you. I'm not like that. I am not interested in Colt or any other boy. I'm a victim of a lot of messed up circumstances. But I'm not what everyone thinks I am. I'm just the opposite," I tried again to convince him. I knew it was pointless. His mind was made up. He just laughed derisively.

"Yeah. It's all circumstance. Everyone I ever arrested was just a victim of circumstance. You're the guy standing over the dead body holding the bloody knife and telling me he just found it lying there on the sidewalk. You just happened to get locked out of your room in Yellowstone naked and just happened to be alone in the hotel room bathroom, naked with a young boy. It's all just circumstance. You were framed, right? Bullshit."

"Whatever. You're going to believe what you want to believe so, forget it."

"I still don't get why you'd pick my son, Colt, to go after. That's the stupidest thing ever. You had to know I'd eventually find out and kick your ass for it," Deputy Sheriff Withers threatened.

"Exactly, that is stupid. And the answer is that I didn't. How would I even know you had a son? You're the reason Colt sought me out. You made him watch all the coverage of my court case. By chance, on my way home from Billings we stopped for gas at the same quick mart where you stopped. Colt was in the bathroom with his little brother and he recognized me from the TV and he started asking me questions. He was scared and confused by all the stuff you'd been saying about gays and what you would do to them. He was worried what would happen to him if he turned out to be gay. He was afraid of you and he wanted to know how he could tell if he was gay because of it. So really you're the problem, not me," I said more boldly than I anticipated. Once I got rolling, it all just spilled out. I could see from the bulging neck veins that my little rant hadn't gone over well with the big Sheriff.

"What day was it?" He barked.

"Umm," I thought hard for a minute. Time had sort of lost relevance for me. One day bled into the next. Finally, I came up with the day and the approximate time that we were there.

"We did stop there coming home from a rodeo and a testimony I had to give in a Billings court case," Sheriff Withers thought.

"You can ask your younger son. He knows Colt talked to me in there. He can verify it. I didn't seek out Colt. Colt sought me out. I promise you."

"And you say Colt approached you?" the big Sheriff repeated.

"Yes. He approached me. I was just in there to take a leak and Colt recognized me. I tried to deny it was me on the TV, but he'd seen so much of the coverage, I couldn't lie to him. He knew it was me. Why did you make him watch that stuff, anyway," I asked.

"None of your business why I do what I do. But, I'll tell you this, my kid is not going to be turned gay. I'm not letting that happen to my boys. No way, no how. And if I point out the problems gays get themselves into, it helps reinforce what I'm teaching them about what's normal," he responded. I didn't even know how to process such bad thinking. I saw no point in arguing with him over it. His mind was obviously like concrete, thoroughly mixed up and permanently set.

"Oh. Whatever. So are we good now? Can I finish my run?" I asked.

"No, we are not GOOD," Sheriff Withers sneered. "We are far from good. Whether Colt approached you first or not, and I will verify that by the way, you should not have had further contact with him. I know you two had several meetings and I know you broke the rules of your bail to go attend my son's rodeo. A rodeo that I wasn't at and you somehow must have known that. So you were still setting him up to take advantage of him and turn him gay just like you did to that little boy in Yellowstone. You just got caught first before you could mess with him, thank God."

"Oh for hell sakes. For like the fourth time, I am not a pedo! I have no sexual interest in your son or any other young boy. I'm gay but I'm only interested in guys my own age. I know you're super prejudiced against gays like me, but you have to be a Neanderthal to believe that all gays want to molest little boys. It's not true! In fact, most molesters are hetero guys and someone close to the boy, not strangers. What can I say to get you to believe me?"

"Not a damn thing. But I can show you how serious I am about you staying away from my Colt. I'm going to make it clear enough that you won't even think about him without feeling the pain I'm about to inflict on you as a warning," he growled.

I felt suddenly sick to my stomach. My knees weakened and my heart started racing. I realized he'd come for one reason and one reason only and nothing I could do or say would deter him from his mission. I swallowed hard and stared at him, biting my quivering upper lip. "So that's it then. You're planning on beating the shit out of me with your night stick?"

"As a clear warning. I sure as hell do."

"I thought you took an oath as a Sheriff to 'Protect and Serve' the community," I said.

"Not your kind. Besides, I am protecting my son and I'm about to serve up some justice."

"JUSTICE!" I cried, "JUSTICE!" I was infuriated. "This isn't justice, it's vigilantism. You're a disgrace to the uniform you wear."

"That's enough out of you. Time to get busy," he sneered. He charged toward me and I knelt down and put my hands behind my head.

"What the fuck are you doing? Aren't you going to run?" he asked, halting his charge in confusion.

"Why? I just ran seven or eight miles, I can't outrun you," I answered.

"Well aren't you at least going to put up a fight, you pussy coward?" he shot back.

"Hah. I'm the coward? You're the coward. No, I'm not running and I'm not fighting back. Since you're determined to violate your oath as a peace officer and beat me without a trial or without having even committed any crime, you're going to have to live with the fact that you beat an innocent, unarmed and non-resisting citizen. You have to make yourself the criminal, I'm not giving you any excuses for your evil and juvenile behavior." I glared up at him, resolved to take whatever he had in store.

He paused. I saw he wanted me to resist. He wanted me to prove him right. But I wasn't going to give him that satisfaction.

"Run, you asswipe faggot!"

"Fuck you, coward!" I yelled back. Then I grunted, "UMNPGH." I felt searing hot pain shoot from my groin as his size 13 boot smashed heavily into my soft testicles. I doubled over and dry wretched. The night stick fell heavily across the back of my neck and I dropped. Then he kicked me repeatedly in the ribs in a violent frenzy followed by a pounding with the stick. All the while he was shouting obscenities towards me. I rolled into a fetal position and covered my head with my arms and prayed he let me live.

Suddenly, it stopped. I'd pulled into myself and stopped listening to his obscenities. It had become a dull roar. But the unexpected silence was deafening. I opened my eyes and cautiously peeked. I saw Sheriff Withers running to his truck and then the sound of gravel under his tires was the next thing I heard. When I realized he was gone, I felt the pain. It hurt to breath, it hurt to move and the worst was the excruciating pain in my smashed testicles. All I could do was moan.

The next thing I became aware of was a tall man kneeling beside me. When I managed to focus, I mumbled an answer to his repeated question, "I don't know. I hurt everywhere." Then he spoke to another man.

"Put the fucking camera down and call 911!" The other man set the large thing he was holding down and I pulled on the tall man's sleeve.

"No. Take me home. Please. Just take me home," I pled.

The man looked hesitant then asked, "Can you stand up?" Gripping onto him I pulled myself into a sitting position with a loud groan. I closed my eyes until the dizziness faded. Slowly, I put one foot under me and then a second and stood, hunched over. The man reached around to support me by my midsection and I screamed in pain.

"No, don't touch me. Just let me hang on to you," I cried out.

"Sure, sure. Take it slow and easy," he suggested. I did. Step by painful step, I made it to the van. He opened the back doors and shoved some equipment boxes aside so that I could just slip in and lay on the floor of the van.

The ride was miserable. Every bump sent shockwaves of pain through my torso. When they pulled up in front of my house, Mom came out to see what was going on. When she saw me, she gasped and started to cry. "Mom, I'm okay. Calm down," I assured her. "I just need to lie down." The news crew helped me into the house and I lay down on the couch, groaning. Mom thanked them and thanked them and fussed over me.

The news man, true to form, started to ask me questions. "Did you know your assailant?"

I pondered that for several minutes. Finally, I looked him in the eye and said, "No. He was a large person. That's all I know."

"Did he speak to you? What did he say?" the news man asked.

"He yelled at me. He screamed obscenities at me and called me a faggot," I said.

"Did you recognize his voice?"

"No."

"What about the truck he was in. Did you recognize that?" the man asked.

"No. I didn't."

"The reason I came out here in the first place was to ask you about the kids on the bus. Can you tell me anything about that?" he asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I murmured.

"There's new information out there about two young boys on a bus trip you were on and something happening in a road stop bathroom," he said. "Can you tell me more about what that's about?"

"No. I'm done for now. Thanks for helping, but can you leave now, please?" I asked. I couldn't think what the hell he was talking about. My balls were aching bad and I needed to see what they looked like. I didn't want anyone else around for that, especially not a news anchor and his cameraman.

"Sure. If you think of anything or if you want us to help find out who did it, just call." He pressed a card in my Mom's hand and he and his cameraman left.

"Are you certain that you're all right? I think we should take you to the emergency room to have you checked out," Mom asked.

"He kicked me between my legs. I need to look down there. Where's Dad?" I asked.

"He's across town. Should I call him?"

"No. Just get Billy."

Mom hurried upstairs and called for Billy in a somewhat frantic voice. Billy rushed down and I had to explain what happened. I could see that Billy wasn't buying it that I didn't know who it was who roughed me up. "Dude, I need to check down there and see why it hurts so bad," I finally said, cutting off his other questions.

Mom excused herself to the kitchen to make me some tea. Billy helped me lift my hips and he slid my jogging pants down and then my tight, nylon sport briefs. I groaned as Billy pulled those off. "Holy shit!" Billy exclaimed. "Dude, that's bad!"

I lifted my head and peered down at my swollen and purplish sac. Tears welled in my eyes. I worried how much damage had been done. "Oh man. I was afraid of that," I grumbled and let my head fall back. Leaning up to look at my balls was hurting my sore ribs and back. "Just put my running shorts back on me. Leave the briefs off."

Billy did that for me and then he said, "I think you need to let Mom see those, dude. You may need to go to a doctor."

"Okay," I relented. "Probably should."

"Mom, come check this out," Billy called.

Mom scurried in with a cup of tea that smelled of lemon. "See what?" she asked.

"This," Billy replied. I sighed as Billy gently exposed my swollen genitals to my mother.

Mom gasped, dropping the cup of tea, and bringing a hand to cover her mouth. She sat beside me and carefully reached down to feel my swollen sac. Her hand felt cool against the hot, swollen skin. She gently squeezed and I cried out. "Sorry, sweetheart. We need to take you in and have a doctor look at this. What kind of an animal did this? We need to get out of here. We just have to get you away from this awful place."

Billy covered me back up and the two of them made preparations to haul me in to emergency. Dad was called and he said he would meet us there. I lay in the back seat of the crew cab of our old truck and wished at every turn and every bump that we'd just get there. Sitting in the emergency room waiting for my turn to get examined was horrible. There was nowhere to lie down and sitting in those red vinyl chairs with the blond wood arms hurt immensely. Breathing hurt, laughing killed me. Billy tried to be funny a couple of times until he realized how it hurt me. Finally, they took me back to an exam room.

When I fully undressed, my mom gasped again. "Who did this to you?" the doctor asked.

"I don't know," I answered. "Some big guy. He hit me from behind and I rolled up on the ground and covered my head."

"This has to be reported to the police," he said.

"I don't want to. I've had enough trouble. I just want to let it go," I answered.

"I'm afraid I can't just let it go. I'm obligated to report crimes," he said. I wasn't surprised but I was troubled. I just didn't want to go through any more legal crap. I just wanted to have my trial, get done with it and move on, and definitely move away. The doctor gave the nurse orders to call the police and then turned his attention to me. Everywhere he prodded hurt.

"Does that hurt?" he asked as he pressed against my shoulder.

"Yes," I answered.

Next the ribs. "Yes." Lower down. "Yes." The welts on my arms from the night stick. "Oh, Yes."

He gently took my swollen sac in his hand and before he could even ask me I said, "YES! YES! YES!" He broke into laughter as did my mother and father. I started to laugh as well, but as soon as I did, I grabbed my ribs and groaned, "Ohhhh, ouch."

The emergency room doctor sent a nurse off and she quickly returned with a syringe and large needle. He shoved it into my scrotum and I nearly passed out. Slowly, he extracted four syringes of blood from my sac and much of the swelling along with some of the pain was relieved. Next I was sent for X-rays. The hard X-ray table slab was painful to lie on and they wanted me to twist this way and that. All of which sent shockwaves of fresh pain through my body.

From there I was ushered into a room and had to lie on a table with footrests, that the technician called stirrups. The technician was a middle aged woman and I felt a little embarrassed. She sensed it and tried to put me at ease. "I understand this can be sensitive for a young man, but I assure you, I'll be as sensitive as I can be. She kept me covered up until she was ready to do the ultrasound. Then she pulled the blanket and gown away and squirted a glob of cold gel on my sac. She let me rub it around. She added a glob to the wand, and placed it on my balls. She slowly, but firmly, slid the wand over my sac and adjusted knobs on the computer screen as she did so. She moved all around my balls, pulling the skin taut and with a fair amount of pressure. I winced and groaned while she apologetically explained that in order to get the correct readings, a certain amount of pressure was necessary. She also had to lift them now and then to get an image from underneath. She wore gloves, of course. When she was done, she lifted my feet out of the stirrups for me and replaced the blanket with a final apology.

I was returned to a regular room after the X-rays. The doctor was strongly considering having me spend the night and they had rooms open. I had blood tests and after about an hour, the doctor came in. I was glad because I was tired of my dad's questions over the incident, trying to get at who had done it. Like Billy, I could tell Dad didn't really believe that I had no idea who my assailant was.

The doctor informed us that nothing was broken but seven ribs were cracked. My testicles, he felt would fully recover but I was to stay in bed for a week and have them checked weekly by my regular doctor. He wrapped my ribs with an elastic bandage to hold them in place but indicated that there wasn't anything to do about them but give them time to heal.

"I can't stay in bed a whole week," I objected. "I have to go to Billings on Tuesday to meet with my attorney."

"You can do what you want, but right now, I don't see any sign of rupture. You do have some swelling of the epididymis. There is a lot of trauma down there and things could worsen if you don't take care of yourself. When you do start to recover and move around, wear a jockstrap to support yourself as much as possible. This isn't a minor matter. You need to take it serious."

"Yes sir. I understand. But I really need to go if there is any way to do it," I answered. I just couldn't miss seeing Steve. I just couldn't bear it. I'd rather take another beating than miss seeing him. It was all I'd been thinking about since I'd learned it was possible.

"Then wear a jockstrap when you travel and do as little walking as possible. And be certain you don't incur any trauma to that region. I'm going to prescribe you some pain medication, anti-inflammatory pills and an anti-biotic. I'd really like you to spend the night just to be sure nothing crops up overnight, but it's up to you."

"He'll stay!" my mom responded for me. I could hear in her voice that it was not negotiable. I didn't answer. Actually, being able to just lie in the adjustable bed and not having to drive home sounded pretty good to me.

Shortly after the doctor left my room, a nurse came in and said the Sheriff was here to take a statement from me. I groaned and steeled myself. "Okay. Might as well get this over with," I told her.

"He asked to speak with you alone, so I need to ask your parents to step out."

"We'll go on home now that we know you're going to be okay. I'm so relieved that nothing serious is wrong. It's good those kind news men came by. Who knows what that brute might have done to you if they hadn't."

"Yeah, probably true. Thanks, Mom. I love you," I said.

"We love you too, Shane. Behave in here," she said with a kiss to my forehead. Dad took my hand and gave me a thumbs up, telling me to get better. A few minutes after they had left, in walked Sheriff Withers.

"What the hell?" I asked in disbelief.

"I don't like it either, but I'm on duty and I couldn't very well say I wasn't going to take the call," he stated plainly. "So have you told anyone that it was me who did this to you?"

"No. I haven't. I told them that I didn't know who did it. I just said it was a large man and that you screamed obscenities and gay slurs at me while you beat me. My dad and Billy don't believe me and I'm pretty sure the doctor didn't either."

"You're smarter than I gave you credit for. Keep up with that story if you know what's good for you," he threatened.

"I didn't do it because I was afraid of you. I did it for Colt. I didn't want him to have to suffer for his father's stupidity. If I identified you, you would lose your job and I couldn't trust what you might do to Colt. I kept quiet about you for that reason and that reason only," I retorted. I glared at him.

"Sure. You're just a saint, aren't you?" he spat.

"You don't need to ask me any questions to fill out your report, since you were present when the crime was committed, so why don't you get the hell out of my room so I can get some badly needed sleep."

"There wasn't any crime. There was only a warning against the crime you had in mind," he said without remorse.

"You don't feel the least bit sorry for what you did to me, do you?"

"Of course not. I did what was best for my son and I'd do it again. I might let him testify against you. Show a pattern of your predatory behavior."

"That would mean you'd have to own up to being my assailant," I said.

"Not necessarily. There's no evidence that I was the one who beat your sorry ass," he smugly replied. "I'm just not sure I want to put Colt through it. Court gets ugly sometimes."

I reached over and pressed the call button for the nurse. "We're done. I don't plan on telling on you because of Colt. Don't give me a reason to change my mind. And also, the vehicle that scared you off was a cable news crew. I don't know if they got any footage of you leaving or not. They had the camera out." I watched with great pleasure as his expression turned fearful.

"You think that's possible?" he asked. "What channel was it?"

"I didn't pay any attention. I was a little more concerned with breathing. If I were you, I'd try to find out, though," I baited him. I didn't want him to waltz out there thinking he'd pulled off his little one man vigilante raid on me risk free. "Actually, Sheriff, I do remember the station, it was KGFY."

"KGFY? I've never heard of it," he said.

"Sure you have. It stands for K Go F Yourself!"

The night nurse walked in and cleared my call button. The timing was good because the Sheriff looked like he wanted to take another swing at me. There must have been a shift change while the Sheriff was in my room. "Need something?" he asked kindly. He was strikingly handsome and reminded me of Steve in a way. His nice hair, strong jaw, smooth, steady gait and especially his kind smile all resembled my lover, Steve.

"Yes, I do. The Sheriff is done and leaving now and I'd like some more pain medicine so I can try to get some sleep."

"Of course." Turning to the Sheriff, he said, "It's just awful what's happened here. I hope you find the coward who did this. Prejudice is such a stupid, moronic thing. Don't you agree?"

"Sometimes," Sheriff Withers began, "Prejudice is based on solid reasoning."

The young nurse just scowled at him with complete disdain and left the room.

Sheriff Withers followed him out. "Have a nice day, Sheriff," I called out as he left. He didn't acknowledge me. I closed my eyes and thought about Colt. I prayed that his asshole father wouldn't take things out on him. I feared that life would not be pleasant at their home. I also hoped it wouldn't come out that Colt's mom concealed the incident with Colt's friend, Scott. Then I turned my thoughts toward Steve. The handsome nurse returned with a whole collection of things.

He pulled the curtain around my bed for privacy and set up an IV bag. "I'm Kyle, and I'll be your nurse tonight," he offered.

"Hi. I'm Shane." He extended a hand and we shook. I was pleased to have a male nurse.

He poked me near the crook of my elbow and set up a line for the IV. He was incredibly gentle about it and found the vein right off. "This is just a saline solution to keep you hydrated and to get some urine flow going. We want to flush out any blood you might have in your kidneys and urethra. Also, it gives us a good method of delivery for your pain meds, anti-biotic and anti-inflammatories. He checked my chart. "No allergies to any medications according to this. Is that correct?"

"None that I know of," I confirmed.

"Good. Here is a urinal bottle to pee in. We want to measure your output and inspect your urine color, so please use it instead of the bathroom. If you need to have a bowel movement, call me and let me help you to the bathroom," he instructed.

"All right. You're very good at all of this," I complimented. "And you seem very kind. Thanks."

He smiled slowly and sincerely, reminding me of Steve. Then he responded, "I appreciate that. I try. I'm pretty new, to be honest. This is my first job out of school. Hope you don't mind breaking me in. I have had some experience with your kind of injury, though."

"Really? You've had other guys with their ribs broke and balls busted?" I asked.

"You have cracked ribs, not broken ones, thankfully," he corrected. "But as for the balls, I had a friend when I was in high school and my mother burst into my room one night and poor William was just leaving and he was just tall enough that the door handle smashed one of his testicles against his leg. Poor guy ended up having to lose it."

When he saw the sudden panic on my face, he quickly added, "But that won't happen to yours, Shane. Yours haven't ruptured. Just take care of them." I smiled in relief.

"I hope not. That's not something I'd like to lose. I'm rather fond of them," I joked.

"As a fellow owner, I get it. I do. It was hard on William when he lost his. They ended up putting in an artificial one for him, so he at least appeared normal and that made him feel much better."

"That's a good thing. I didn't know they could do that," I said. He injected a syringe of pain killer, then one of an anti-biotic as well as an anti-inflammatory into the IV line.

"You should get some relief from that pretty soon," Nurse Kyle assured me.

"I have to check on my only other patient and I'll be right back. Looks like I've got an easy night ahead of me," he said with a smile.

"Sounds good."

"I'm going to leave you this little bottle. The Urologist would like to get a semen sample from you in it for the lab. You can take care of it while I'm out," he offered. "When I come back, I'll check your injuries and help you get comfortable for the night. Well, as comfortable as you're going to be able to get, at least."

"Which probably isn't very comfortable at all," I suggested.

"You're right about that, I'm afraid." He left the curtain drawn for privacy.

I laid back and squirmed a bit to try and get comfortable. I messed with the adjustments on the bed until I was more sitting up than lying down and that seemed to be as comfortable as I was going to get. I reached over to the table and took the cup. That sent waves of pain through my chest. I just lay back and dropped my hands to my side. Every little thing was a major undertaking. My muscles in my back, neck and arms were aching and screaming from the bruises and welts I'd received. My legs ached from having run so far before I was beaten and overall, I was just exhausted.

I felt Kyle's warm hand on my arm and my eyes fluttered awake. "Oh, hey. I guess I dozed," I told him.

"That's what you need, is sleep," he said. "But right now, Cynthia is here from the lab to draw some blood. Did you take care of the other lab specimen?"

I felt my face blush pink. "Uh, no. Sorry. I started to but ..."

"Okay. We can get that down to them later. I'll leave Cynthia to her work. I'll be back in a bit," Kyle said understandingly.

Cynthia was not as good at finding my slippery veins as Kyle had been. She poked me a half dozen times before she found one and drew her vials of my dark red blood. I couldn't help but think that if she'd cut her bright purple bangs, she could see what she was doing better. She removed the rubber tourniquet and let my life force flow. Three vials later, she was off.

Kyle returned and smiled. He stood beside my bed and said, "I've followed your case on the TV. It must be awful what you're going through. Do you mind if I ask you a little about it?"

"No. That's fine," I offered.

"If you're not comfortable talking about it, or if I'm bothering you, please let me know," he clarified.

"It's fine, really. I'd like to talk a bit. I'm awake again now."

"Good. I was also wondering if while we talk, if you'd like a sponge bath. I read in your chart that you had been out running when that gay bashing asshole attacked you. Pardon my language, but, eww, I hate those fools."

I chuckled a bit at his reaction but it hurt to do so. "A sponge bath would be wonderful, if you're willing. I feel incredibly sticky and gross."

"I'll be right back then," Kyle said and whisked away.

He was back in a flash with a small pan of warm water, several wash cloths, some liquid soap and a toothbrush. He'd shut my door and pulled the curtain. He placed an absorbent pad underneath me and peeled off the covers as well as my gown. I was naked, but he didn't make me feel the least bit uncomfortable about it. He gently lifted my swollen sac and examined it briefly, nodding approval, presumably as an indication that it wasn't as bad as he thought it might be. He took my elastic bandage off my rib cage and set it aside. Then, he moistened a towel and began washing my feet. He was so gentle and tender about it. It felt wonderful and took my mind off the painful ribs.

"What would you like to know?" I asked.

"The reports say you didn't know anything about the sex ring that the Judge was running. You just happened to be roommates at college with that Steve guy who had grown up in the orphanage place and had gotten swept up into the sex ring activities. Is that right?"

"Pretty much. Yeah. I had no idea what kind of hell he'd lived through there. He didn't ever talk about his past. I first learned he was an orphan when he came home with me at Christmastime."

"So the part I don't get is, how come you're charged with sex crimes against the boys if you were never part of that?"

"That's a long story," I said.

He rinsed the cloth and started on my other foot, "I got all night," he said with a smile.

"Don't make me laugh," I begged, holding my left side. He apologized. I started to recount the experience at the ranch and how Steve revealed about growing up in the boys home. I shared that we started having a gay relationship and then told him the whole Yellowstone story. He kept pressing a hand to his mouth to stifle his laughter when I got to the part about being naked in the hallway. He sympathized with me over the frustration I felt over Steve's secretive nature. Kyle actually cried with me as I talked of Calvin's death and he took my hand and held it as I shared my feelings of guilt over it. His eyes were full of compassion.

"What an ordeal," Kyle lamented with me as I finished my tale. "And now this. You've been through so much. I'm pretty good at reading people, Shane, and I can tell that what you've shared with me is true. I believe you and I pray that justice prevails for you."

"Thanks. I have a good attorney and he's doing all he can. There's just such a witch hunt mentality out there about this kind of thing and I get it, protecting the children is important, but it scares me that I might be a victim of the hysteria," I said.

"I'm sure. How scary it must be for you. I'm truly sorry," he shared. He finished washing my back and it felt good to lay back against the bed feeling clean. Only my groin was left. "Do you want me to do down here, or would you rather try yourself?" he asked.

"If you don't mind, I'd rather you did it," I answered honestly. I felt no embarrassment because he was so kind and reassuring. He spread my legs a bit and slid a damp cloth up underneath me and cleaned down through my crack. I shivered as he brushed across my sphincter. I wished it was Steve there with me. I so wanted to be stroked and caressed by Steve in the manner Kyle had just done for me. I missed his touch so much. Tears formed and trickled down my cheeks.

"Am I hurting you?" Kyle asked pulling away from the tender dabbing he'd been doing along the folds of my swollen sac.

"No. No, it feels good. I was just ..." I paused. "I was just thinking about my boyfriend, Steve, and missing him. That's all." I brushed a tear from my cheek. The attention to my balls and the whole bathing experience is having an effect on me." Particularly, thinking about Steve bathing and caressing me without the distraction of telling my story, had suddenly caused the normal human male reaction in my penis. It boned up to full mast.

"Sorry," I offered. "It has a mind of its own sometimes, you know?"

He smiled knowingly and said, "I do know, as a matter of fact. And, no worries. In fact, that should help you with the specimen you still owe me."

I smiled back. "I guess it will at that."

He finished with one last, gentle caress of my tender balls and gathered up the towels, placing them in the tub of water. Then he handed me the small clear bottle. I took the lid off and held it with my left hand down near the tip of my dick and gripped my shaft with my right hand. I started to slowly stroke it as Kyle gathered the last of his items. I let go of my dick and fell back into my bed. "I don't think I can do this. It hurts," I whined.

He paused, seeming unsure of what he was about to say, then offered, "Would you like me to help?"

"Would you?" I asked. He nodded and set the tub and folded up pad on the floor. He pulled a bottle of lotion from his pocket and filled his palm. He took my penis in hand, which had softened already, and slowly caressed it. It felt nice to have it touched in a tender manner by someone else. I wished he didn't have gloves on, but even with the gloves, his technique was impressive. Slowly, he slid my re-engorged dick through his lubricated palm, allowing his thumb to trace across my frenulum just right. He added a slight twist at the very end of each stroke to make sure his thumb flicked across the sensitive fold of skin.

I made satisfied, soft moans as he tenderly stimulated me toward the required orgasm. He wasn't clinical or perfunctory in his approach at all. He was cautious and gentle. It was almost sensual. I say almost, but in fact, that's exactly what it was. It was sensual. He smiled understandingly and so very kindly as we made eye contact. "Let me show you what my partner, Scotty, likes me to do for him," Nurse Kyle whispered. Then, he added lotion and turned his palm the opposite way such that the underside of my glans rubbed across his wrist on the downward strokes.

"Scotty?" I asked. "You're gay?"

He smiled and nodded. "Yes. We've been together since high school. We were on the wrestling team together, and we had our own little ordeal with some very evil men," he offered. "I could completely relate to your traumatic experience at the river."

"I should have known," I said.

"Why should you have known?" he asked. "Am I so obvious?"

"No. I didn't mean that. I just ... I guess I don't know why I said that."

He smiled again and asked, "This should be working soon. Are you close?"

"Not quite. To be honest, it would help if my boyfriend, Steve, were here to fill me up. I crave that. Do you have something I could use up there?" I asked.

"I see," he said with a knowing smile. He stopped and spread lotion on the fingers of his left hand and found his way to my hole. "Would you like me to?" Kyle asked.

"Yes, Please. It will help me cum," I shared.

"Okay. Tell me if it hurts." Cautiously, he slid a finger up inside. Not far, because I could only give him limited access, but enough. Then he put two up inside me. I knew he wouldn't reach the magic spot, given the limited access, but it was enough to heighten the titillation for me.

Kyle resumed stroking my reddened dick while cautiously finger fucking me. "Oh man, it feels so good. It's been so long." I gulped and panted as he deftly coaxed the semen from my aching balls. They pulled up tight and when they did, I groaned in pain.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked and stopped what he'd been doing.

"No. Just my balls pulling up in my sac was painful. Don't stop," I desperately begged.

He pressed his fingers back up within me again and I pulled my legs carefully up and spread them to give him better access to my ass and closed my eyes. "Oh, Steve," I whispered, "Fill me up. Take me all the way, my love. Take me all the way. The fingers pressed deeper until the tips reached my happy place and then fondled me to a spectacular eruption. Each orgasmic wave sent a unique mixture of pleasure and pain shuddering through my upper torso. Nurse Kyle released my pulsating penis and grabbed the bottle to collect the next three blasts of my ejaculate. When I was done cumming, and was just lying there panting, Kyle slowly slipped his fingers out of me. He'd understood how important it was for me to be continuously stimulated there to enhance the experience. Of course, he knew. He was one of us. I wondered then, allowing a slightly wicked smile to cross my pursed lips, if Kyle's partner was a bottom as well.

"Thanks," I mumbled appreciatively. "I needed that. More than you could know."

"My pleasure," he replied. "But, Shane?"

"Yes," I answered.

"It's not likely that anyone will ever ask, but if it should come up, there's no need to provide any details on how this lab sample was collected." He hefted the small bottle up and wiggled it. I could see that it was abnormally pink in color. I was frightened by that and he sensed it. Rotating it slowly, he commented, "There's only a little blood mixed in. That's a good sign." I relaxed and smiled again. Then I closed my eyes and surrendered to my tired, aching body. I dreamt of Steve with his gorgeous hair, solid jawline, smooth gait and tender touch.

####

Hopefully, you are still with me on this journey. I appreciate my editors, Flip and Paul, for helping with this story and making it so much better for you. I appreciate your comments and pray all is well with you. Hans h.schreiber@hushmail.com