Tales from the Ranch

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 2003 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 25: What a Week

Dale slept until about 5 minutes before time for the alarm to ring on Monday morning. His "internal clock" had allowed him to sleep later than his usual time to awaken. He was lying on his left side and Craig was lying next to him, on his back, with his right arm behind and above Dale's head. Both had pushed the sheet and quilt down to mid-torso, giving Dale a chance to admire his lover.

It really had been love at first sight when he had met Craig face-to-face two weeks ago when in the meeting with the Williamson's, Mort and Ray Evans. Although he had seen Craig around town a couple of times before that, he hadn't been all that close to him and didn't know his name until that morning. They both (as he later found out) were scheming to figure a way to get acquainted with each other by the time the meeting was over.

That had worked out just fine and they hadn't been apart since then. A lot of rushing water under the bridge, but Dale felt it was right and he knew Craig did, too.

He wanted to do something that would allow him to touch Craig's body, but couldn't decide to use his hands or his lips. He finally decided on both, nuzzling Craig's lips with his mustache and lightly stroking his nipples with his fingers.

Craig's eyes blinked open as if he was trying to decide what was happening. Then his eyes focused on Dale and he got a big smile on his face. He loved waking up next to this wonderful stud, his lover, every morning.

Life was now a grand experience for each of them and they were anxious to share it and see where it took them.

His right arm went around Dale's neck as he swung himself up on top of him so they were face-to-face, toe-to-toe and touching in all the places that mattered. No sex was involved this morning. It just felt good to be in each other's arms and savor the moments of waking up.

Eddie got up and prepared for his usual morning run. It felt exhilarating to be out on his circuit again after not having run since Friday morning. Although he would have welcomed the chance to run with Tom, who didn't like this activity; this was his time by himself each day. Time when he could either let his mind wander or think about what he had planned for the day.

Tom woke up about 20 minutes before Eddie returned from his run. He had shaved and showered but hadn't dressed. He had retrieved the newspaper from the front sidewalk and was sitting at the kitchen counter reading it. Coffee and juice were ready for Eddie when he came into the kitchen and when Tom gave him a kiss; he was reminded that he loved the smell of honest sweat that surrounded Eddie.

Eddie downed his juice, took his coffee mug and headed to the bathroom to shave and shower while Tom got dressed for school. They were ready to leave for their walk to school at the same time and grabbed the backpacks they had prepared the night before.

Jason and Kevin slept soundly wrapped in each other's arms on Kevin's bed. Jason slept because of his lack of sleep the two previous nights on the camping trip. Kevin slept well because Jason was home and he felt safe being curled up to him.

They both woke to the buzzing of the alarm clock. When Jason got out of bed he realized that Sandy wasn't in their room, then remembered why. He felt sad, but was glad that his brother and Jack hadn't been harmed on Saturday.

Kevin seldom woke up quickly and this morning was no exception. Jason usually had to prod him several times to remind him that it was another school day. The first reminder was before he went to the bathroom to pee. Kevin sat up, rubbing his eyes. Jason went back to brush his teeth, then went back to check on his brother again. This time he was sitting on the side of the bed.

"Come on, sleepyhead," he reminded Kevin again. "I'm ready to take a shower and you need to get started, too. I'll wait for you to pee and brush your teeth.

At that third urging, Kevin got out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. Jason busied himself by straightening the sheets and covers on the bed. When he went back in the bathroom, Kevin was ready to get in the shower.

As the warm water hit him, he gradually woke up then began to shampoo his hair and soap up his young body. Jason did the same and they finished their showers at the same time, drying themselves with the big, fluffy towels they each loved so well.

Finishing in the bathroom, drying and combing their hair, using deodorant and applying a small splash of their favorite colognes, they were ready to get dressed for school.

Kevin was exceptionally quiet, but Jason didn't know if he was sad about Sandy or if he really wasn't fully awake yet.

They had each prepared their backpacks the night before, but checked to make sure their homework was included. Jason checked to make sure his clean gym clothes were there, too. They set off to go downstairs where Mrs. Wood had scrambled eggs, toast, juice and milk and sausage links ready for them.

While they were eating, Marty came into the kitchen wearing a t-shirt and nylon athletic shorts.

"Hi guys," he greeted them.

"Hi Dad," they replied, almost in unison.

"Marty, are scrambled eggs okay for you?" Mrs. Wood asked as he poured himself a large mug of coffee.

"Sure, that's fine," he said while looking at the plates Jason and Kevin had. He loved Mrs. Woods's scrambled eggs because she always put green onions, green pepper and mushrooms in them. It was almost like an omelet, but probably faster for her to prepare.

"Hey, fellows. shall we see about getting a puppy today?" he cautiously asked.

"Sure," Kevin replied.

"It's okay with me," Jason said.

"Do you boys want another Collie like Sandy, or would you rather have a German Shepherd or a Lab this time?"

"Collie," was the response, again almost in unison.

"Good. I called the kennel where we got Sandy years ago and he has two litters of pups right now. One is 10 weeks old and the other is eleven weeks. He doesn't like to sell them until they are at least 10 weeks old because he thinks they make better dogs if they have the extra time with their littermates and mother.

"Cool," said Jason.

"Okay, I'll pick both of you up at school this afternoon and we'll drive over to Austin and look at them."

Kevin and Jason were both excited.

"Dad.?" Kevin asked.

"Yes."

"Could. maybe. we each get a pup?" he questioned.

"I hadn't thought about that, but it's an idea worth considering. You boys think about it during the day. Do you still eat lunch together?" Marty asked.

"Sometimes, but not everyday," Jason said.

"Well, you might talk about it at lunch and then we can talk about it on the way to Austin this afternoon."

"Great!" Both boys were enthusiastic at the idea.

They had finished their meal and it was time to walk to the end of the driveway to catch the school bus. They each gave Marty a big hug, telling him they would see him later in the afternoon. Mrs. Wood was thanked for the great breakfast as they grabbed their backpacks and headed out the door.

"Bertha, would you be upset if we had two dogs?"

"No, Marty. The only thing I've ever had to do for Sandy was to feed her when all of you were gone. And, she always wanted to go out several times during the day, but she generally stayed in the house."

"I just don't want to cause you extra work."

"That's not a problem and they might be good company for each other as well as both boys."

"We'll see what the breeder has, but we'll probably come home with two pups this evening." He smiled as he said it, remembering when he and Chris had gotten Sandy not too long after they had married.

Dale was leaving to go to the ranch and he and Craig were giving each other a "dick-twitching kiss".

"You give me another kiss like that and I'll call in sick," Dale laughed.

"Well, I've got to come out to the Bar-W later this morning. Ray and his crew will be taking the forms off the basement walls this morning. There really isn't any reason for me to come out there, except to see you, but I do want to make sure everything is going okay. He should be getting ready to pour the basement floor, maybe even this afternoon, but certainly tomorrow. They will be putting the plate on top of the stem walls and getting ready to start putting floor joists in place, too."

"They'll be making a lot of progress this week, won't they?" Dale asked.

"It's possible that they may be framing on the second floor by the time we leave for Ft. Worth on Thursday evening."

"Ray does good work and seems to have a good crew," Dale said.

"If they have good weather this week, they may have it all framed by the time you are back at work on Tuesday next week."

Marty refilled his coffee after eating, then fixed a mug for Chris. She was just starting to get dressed for the day when he entered their rooms.

"Thanks for the coffee," she purred, giving her husband a kiss.

"You're welcome, and thank you," Marty smiled.

They discussed their day. Marty had a meeting at the bank this morning because Gerald Hilton, their Director of Operations at the bank, had given his notice on Friday. He was joining the Bank of Texas parent company in Houston.

Marty and the executive staff were going to discuss their options; they could either try an internal promotion or they might have to go outside to fill his position.

Chris had a luncheon meeting with the library board, then an appointment at the beauty shop at 2 p.m.

"I talked to Jason and Kevin about getting a new dog while we were eating breakfast."

"Good," Chris replied. "Were they okay with the idea?"

"Yes," Marty told her. "I think it's probably a good idea to move fairly quickly on this. It will keep them from dwelling on what happened to Sandy."

"Don't forget, one of us needs to pick up her ashes at the Vet's office."

"I'll do that on the way into town this morning," Marty replied. "By the way, what do you think about getting two dogs?"

Chris looked at him with a question on her face.

"Actually it was Kevin who suggested the possibility. I don't see any problem and I asked Bertha. She said that Sandy had never caused her any extra work."

"I don't have any objections. The boys have always kept Sandy brushed and see to her needs. Jason started taking care of her about the time he was six years old."

Marty said, "I told them to think about it during the day and we could talk about it some more on the way to Austin this afternoon. I'm going to pick them up at school and we'll drive over to the kennels this afternoon."

"Whatever you and the boys decide is fine with me. After all, you won't have to take care of them until the boys are both in college," she laughed.

Marty laughed along with her. "Maybe I'd just better see if we can rent a dog until that time. Then it can be returned when the boys are through with it."

Craig went to his office and met with Don about the various projects they were working on. Don had two more meetings that afternoon with Warren Collins and prospective tenants for the new shopping center he was building.

Craig reminded him that he and Dale would be leaving on Thursday night for Ft. Worth for the builders trade show and come back to Williamsport on Monday evening.

"You better be careful about taking him to any gay bars while you're there. One of those 'City Cowboys' might try to steal him away from you," Don teased him.

"That's just a risk I have to take. He needs to see that seamy side of life."

"Knowing you, you can easily show that to him," Don laughed.

"Always have to have the last word, don't you?" Craig asked.

"You know me. and you love it when I tease you," Don replied.

"Yeah, I don't know how I was lucky enough to get you for a business partner. probably because no one else wanted you," Craig said, then quickly backed out of Don's office and shut the door.

Sounds of laughter could still be heard from his office.

Craig remembered that he needed to call his mother to see when the best time would be for he and Dale to go be at their house on Saturday.

He went to his office, picked up the phone and punched in his parent's number.

Doris Bastian answered on the second ring.

"Mom." Craig started to say.

"Craig, I was hoping you would call this morning. If not Frank and I were going to call you this evening."

"I'm sorry. I really intended to call last night, but I didn't get it done."

"That's not a problem, but we needed to confirm that you fellows will be here on Saturday evening so your sisters and their boyfriends can be here, too."

"Saturday evening is fine and we'll look forward to seeing you. We really don't have any plans except for attending the trade show on Friday," Craig said.

"Why don't you and Dale come over about 3:30 on Saturday afternoon and Frank and I can have a chance to visit with both of you before Susan and Becky and their boyfriends get here? They probably will be here about 5 so we can have cocktails before we eat. I'm fixing some of your favorite dishes," she reminded him.

"Mom. don't go to a lot of trouble."

Doris cut him off. "Now it's my boy's birthday and I don't get to spoil you since you live in another town. And. I hope Dale likes the same things you do."

"Dale likes good food and he's willing to try new things and usually he likes them. Besides you never go for new exotic dishes, anyway," Craig reminded her.

"I know. Our family likes good home cooking and although we like the try new things when we go out to eat, we don't change our menus here at home very often.

We're looking forward to it. You are going to love Dale and I know he will love you, too."

"I know we will, honey. Especially if he's good for you."

"He is, Mom. he is," Craig said.

"Dress comfortably, no suits or ties since we're not going out."

"Okay, Mom. We'll see you Saturday afternoon."

"Thanks for calling, Craig. We love you."

"I love you, too. Bye," Craig said.

The connection was broken.

Wes Owen, the President of the Williamsport Realtor's Association had spent time over the weekend, looking over six contracts he had in his possession. These were contracts that Phyllis Richmond had made up on sales of properties she had sold. He also had the pending contract on the sale of Dale Richard's property to Don Albrecht; another one where the buyers and sellers copies didn't match. As he looked them over, he realized one thing: they were all cash deals with no financing by a loan company. No wonder someone hadn't noticed. He called Gus Douglas, an attorney friend and made an appointment to see him immediately.

Arriving at his office, only a block away, Wes presented his information and the supporting paperwork. He had put colored stickers on each discrepancy. The disputed amounts ran from $1,000 to almost $3,500. In four cases the figures had been corrected. Mz. Richmond claimed it was an honest mistake. The other two had gone through without corrections and it appeared that there was a total of $3,200 where the sellers had been shorted. He had been able to get cancelled checks from those two deals. When he traced the deposits, they looked okay until he checked with the bank. The account they had been deposited to was a dummy corporation and Phyllis Richmond's name was the only one on the account.

"Gus, what can we do about this? No telling how much she's gotten away with, although it just seems to be where there is no mortgage company involved."

"It's out and out fraud and grand theft since in these two cases the amount is over $500 each. I suggest that you allow the deal to go through between Dale Richards and Don Albrecht as it is. Then we can nail her to the wall since we have three of these fraudulent deals in the last four months.

"We can freeze her bank accounts and Don can recover his money. Then both he and Dale - and the people involved in these other two deals - can sue her for fraud. We can go to the Register of Deeds office and check for other contracts, notify those people and add their names to the suit, if they are interested.

"If Dale and Don can close their deal today, then everything will be in place and we'll jerk her realtor's license as soon as the checks are deposited.

"Thanks, Gus. I'd appreciate it if you would represent us on this matter."

"I'd be glad to, Wes. I'll get it set up with the bank, so just let me know when Don is ready to hand over the checks and we'll make our legal move then."

Wes went back to his office and called Don Albrecht.

"Are you ready to close on the house you're buying from Dale Richard's?" he asked.

"Sure. What's up?"

Wes explained the deal to Don and suggested that he might prepare the checks, give them to Phyllis and let her deliver Dale's check to him and he could sign the contract at the time.

"That's okay, except you have the original copy that Dale is supposed to sign."

"Not a problem. Do you have a number where I can reach Dale and I'll deliver it to him right away?" West asked.

"Just a minute. I think my partner has his cell phone number." He excused himself and went into the next office.

"Craig, does Dale have a cell phone?"

"Sure, do you need the number?"

While Craig was writing it down, Don hurriedly explained what was going on. He was excited about catching Phyllis Richmond with her hands in the till.

Don walked back to his office and gave Wes the phone number.

"I'll get hold of him immediately, take the contract to him and have him call Mz. Richmond. I want you to call her right away and tell her that you are ready to close, that Dale is ready to sign the contract today."

The trap was set, waiting for the pushy realtor to fall in.

Ray Evans crew was at the Bar-W at 8 a.m. and it didn't take them long to have the forms off the inside of the basement walls. While three of the men were working on the outside, Ray and two other men were starting to place steel mesh on the sand to strengthen the concrete that would be poured for the basement floor. By 10 a.m. the forms were off and loaded on a truck.

Craig arrived at the site about that time to check that everything was okay for the next step, although it really wasn't necessary. Ray didn't try to cut corners as some of the other contractors might.

Four steel poles had been bolted to concrete pads that would be under the concrete floor. These poles would support a central beam running the length of the house, cutting the span for the floor joists in half. Craig checked the alignment on those, already knowing they were in the right place.

Craig gave Ray a thumbs-up and Ray called the concrete company that he was ready for a delivery that had already been setup at the time he ordered the concrete for the stem walls. Shortly after that a dump truck arrived with river gravel to backfill the foundation. The drain tile was in place, so one of the men used the front loader to start that job.

Craig told Ray goodbye and set out to find his lover. He hadn't seen his vehicle at the office, but remembered that they were going to start plowing a couple of fields in the new land the Bar-W had acquired. He used the phone in Dale's office to call his cell phone number.

"Dale Richards," came the greeting when the phone rang the second time.

"Is this the real Dale Richards, the stud of the Bar-W Ranch?" Craig teased.

"This is the guy. You have something you want bred?" he teased back.

"Only if I can be flat on my back and we can repeat what you did yesterday morning," Craig said.

"I've got the place if you have the time," Dale said, enjoying this conversation. In fact it was making them both a little hard.

"Ooohh. we may have to skip lunch and you meet me at home." By this time they were both laughing.

"What's up?" Dale queried.

"Did Wes Owen get in touch with you a little bit earlier?

"Yes. I'm on my way back to the ranch office now to meet him. Where are you?"

"Sitting at your desk, talking to you," Craig replied.

"We just got the equipment moved in to the field and the guys are ready to start plowing and working the ground. It took a little longer to get everything up here than I thought. Why don't you wait for me? I'll call Mz. Richmond as soon as Wes delivers the contract."

"Okay. I just finished checking the construction site. Ray is going to make a lot of progress in the next couple of days."

"Great. I'll see you in about 10 minutes."

"Bye. Remember. I've got the time." Craig teased.

"Now I'm going to be horny all day just thinking about drilling your ass again this evening. See you in a few minutes." The connection was broken.

Craig realized that he was almost fully hard.

Dale was glad that Levi 501's had extra crotch space.

Bret Jenkins, Senior, was working on getting last weeks bills for the Bar-W Ranch paid and noticed several credit card receipts signed by Dale Richards. Then there was an invoice for a new Chevy Blazer, signed by Marty, with the notation "Dale's vehicle".

He had heard that Dale was being promoted to Parker Morton's job, but he didn't think that was to happen until the end of December. Although it was none of his business, he saw red and stormed into Morris Johnsmore's office without knocking.

"Are you aware that Dale Richard's is signing on a credit card that belongs to the Bar-W Ranch?"

"Why, yes I am. I gave him the card myself and we received a new one with his name on it this morning. I need to deliver it to him and pick up the one he's been using."

Then waving the invoice for the new Blazer, Bret asked, "And why did they buy him a new vehicle to use? That ranch has enough pickups and other vehicles as it is?"

Morris was more than just a little annoyed. Lately it seemed that Bret questioned every piece of paper that related to the Bar-W.

"Look, Bret. Mort is retiring at the end of the year, but Dale has assumed his new job already. Although Dale is learning the job, he's in charge of the day-to-day operation of the Bar-W now and Mort is showing him the ropes as they go."

"But the guy is a fag!" Bret spit out. "Why does that family like fags so much? They give a lot of money to that 'cathedral' they own and the minister or priest or whatever they call him is a fag, too. They gave money to that new fag club that the church supports."

"Bret, it's none of your business. Marty pays our firm to be their accountants, just like we are the accounting firm for a number of other businesses they own - including the Commerce Bank. If you have a problem with this, I have no alternative but to pull you off the accounting for those businesses - but I don't have anything else to put you on since about 80% of our business relates to the Williamson family.

That wasn't what Bret wanted to hear. Morris Johnsmore hadn't threatened to fire him, but he had told him that there wasn't any other accounts he could put him on.

"Now there's one other matter. You may not be aware of it, but I grew up in St. James Church and my parents were members from the time they moved here, about 1912. It's true that our priest is gay and that his partner is the music director. But only people from outside our parish are negative about that fact. Father George Tikker has made the parish grow and that's what we want."

"But that's only because they are recruiting people to be gay," Bret said.

Morris laughed at him. "Who on earth told you that?"

"That's what our minister, Rev. Billy Bob Jones says. How can you call yourselves Christians when you don't believe the Bible's teachings about homosexuality?"

Morris wasn't prepared for this conversation and told Bret so. "Bret, I'm not in a position to argue with you about this because I'm not well-informed on the subject, but I'll be glad to make an appointment for you to go talk to Fr. Tikker. I'm sure he will be glad to answer any and all questions you have about that subject and anything else that our church either believes or doesn't believe."

"That won't be necessary. I believe our minister and that's enough for me."

"I agree with you. I'm not all that knowledgeable about theology, but I can tell you that I am comfortable sitting in my church every Sunday morning and enjoying the beautiful music, ritual and ceremony. You just have to go and do whatever is the most comfortable for you."

Bret shrugged his shoulders and backed out of Morris's office, without saying anything more.

Morris was becoming concerned about Bret, who was becoming unhappier by the day. He didn't know what the problem was, but it was to the point that he needed to monitor his attitude a little more closely.

As far as he was concerned, it didn't make any difference what people's sexual orientation was as long as they didn't flaunt it all over town. Dale certainly seemed like a nice, down to earth person, and Morris found no fault with that.

Since Morris was thinking about Dale, he looked up the number of his cell phone and called him.

"Dale Richards," was the next thing he heard after a ring signal.

"Dale, this is Morris Johnsmore."

"Good morning, Morris. What can I do for you?" Dale asked.

"I just wanted to let you know that I have a new MasterCard for you, with your name on it. Would it be possible for you to pick it up and leave the one you've been using sometime this week?"

"Sure. I'm coming in around noon for some other business. I can drop by your office and trade, if that's okay."

"That will be fine, Dale. If I'm not here, my secretary will have it for you."

"Thanks, Morris. I'll take care of it today."

They told each other goodbye and Dale broke the connection.

Dale was just getting out of his Blazer when Wes Owen drove up the driveway. Dale invited him into the office and introduced Craig.

Wes explained what he wanted Dale to do and gave him the original sales contract.

"Don't deposit or cash Don's check," Wes said. "As far as the law is concerned, this is a fraudulent contract and we're using it to catch Phyllis Richmond. As soon as she deposits the check made out to her dummy corporation, we'll make our move.

We have an attorney, or you can use your own, and a new contract will be drawn up which will give both you and Don a better deal since there won't be a sales commission involved. So, just hang on to the check."

Craig started laughing.

"What's so funny?" Dale asked.

"Wes, I'm Don's partner in the architectural firm. We love to tease each other all the time. I'm going to have this check stamped "Insufficient Funds" and frame it to hang on the wall."

Dale, at first, was horrified. Wes started laughing. Soon, all three of them were laughing hard.

"Oh boy, I wish I could see his face when you show him the finished product," Wes said.

"Knowing Don, he'll want to hang it on his own wall," Craig said.

"Well, at least something funny can come out of this whole sordid mess," Wes agreed.

They told Wes goodbye and Dale placed a call to Phyllis Richmond as he drove off.

Phyllis had already heard from Don and was ready to go to his office to pick up the checks and signed copy of the sales agreement. So, she was waiting for Dale to call her. She had tried the ranch office already, cursing because there was no answering machine.

When Dale identified himself, she told him that she would be at the ranch in 15 minutes, not giving him a chance to verify that the time was okay.

Dale had let Mrs. Wood know the first thing that he was not going to be eating at the ranch today. That was fine with her. Marty had a meeting at the bank and Chris had a luncheon meeting in town. That would give her a chance to do several errands and also make a trip to the grocery store for staples and some special things needed for menus the next few days.

She seldom had to buy meat as the family sent a couple of steers to the local meat processor every so often, where it was butchered, cut to their specifications, then frozen. This was also a source for pork and lamb when they wanted it. Although they had chickens at the ranch, it was mainly for household egg production. She bought chicken at the grocery store.

"Do you want to eat lunch with me today?" Craig asked.

"Sure. I've got some things to drop off and pick up," not telling Craig that he was making a return trip to the jewelry store. "I can go anytime after Phyllis Richmond leaves."

"That's fine," Craig said. That would give him time to stop and pick up the luggage he wanted to purchase.

They agreed to meet at Tony D's at noon, hoping Greg would be working and could find a seat for them during the rush hour.

Craig was able to park close to the Dillard's store and the luggage was near the entrance he used since he didn't want to go into the mall.

He quickly found what he wanted. A case for Dale to match his, a "vanity" case that they could use to carry toiletries and other needs and another garment bag for suits, shirts and pants they didn't want to fold up.

The clerk was the usual Dillard's employee who barely knew how to operate the cash register. Of course, the scanner didn't read the correct sale price, so she had to get a supervisor to over-ride the system for the advertised price. All the while she was acting like Craig's being in the store was a big imposition for her.

He was glad to get out of there, wishing that Foley's had a branch in Williamsport.

Phyllis Richmond didn't waste any time getting out to the Bar-W Ranch. She had picked up the checks from Don Albrecht, and soon her Cadillac was roaring up the driveway to Dale's office. Dale could see the glow of her red hair even though the windows were tinted. He hoped he could keep a straight face and not betray anything while they were doing business.

She was her usual brusque self, trying to make sure everyone noticed her and running over them in the process. Dale held the door open for her, holding his hand out to greet her as she walked into the office. The gesture was ignored.

"Why don't you have an answering machine in this office? I've been trying to call you all weekend. I called your house and got a message that the number had been changed. No answer there - and no answering machine. Same thing here. Don't you have a secretary in this place?" She was on a roll and Dale decided to play with her mind a little bit.

"Ma'am, this is a ranch. The telephone here in this office is for the convenience of me and the people who work for me. I carry a cell phone and those who have to get in touch with me for a decision have that number. Otherwise, it's not for the general public to have access to.

"Now the fact that I'm going to sign this contract today doesn't change the price that Don is paying me and it doesn't delay anything as far as I'm concerned. The contract seems to be in order and I'm ready to sign it."

Of course, Phyllis Richmond, didn't like for anyone to talk down to her, but this deal was ready to go to closing. She had the checks in hand and as soon as Dale signed the contract, she would give Dale his check, drop a couple of checks off to file the property transfer and deposit her own commission check - and the other one for "hidden costs" that went to her dummy corporation.

Dale noticed when he signed the contract/sales agreement that it had already been notarized. 'Well, that wasn't his problem and he wasn't going to worry about it,' he thought. All he was required to do was hang on to Don's check and call Wes Owen when Mz. Richmond left his office.

Phyllis Richmond barely thanked Dale as she took her copy of the contract, handing him Don's check and heading to the door.

'What a bitch,' was Dale's thinking, wondering how long it would take for all of the pieces of this transaction to fall into place.

Phyllis Richmond's Cadillac El Dorado was barely out of sight when Dale picked up the phone and punched the number of Wes Owen's office.

"Owen here," the voice answered.

"Sir, this is Dale Richards. Phyllis was just here, gave me my check and copy of the contract and left. I noticed when I signed it that it was already notarized as if someone had witnessed my signature."

"Good work, Dale. Thanks for noticing that fact. That won't do her any good either, because you and she should have signed that paperwork in front of a notary. I'll let my man at the bank know that she's probably on her way. If she deposits that check, we'll arrest her as she comes out of the bank."

Dale laughed. "I'll watch for a mushroom cloud in the south this afternoon."

"I'm sure she will be kicking and screaming. We have a judge ready to hear charges against her as soon as they take her in."

Dale laughed.

"Thanks for helping us with this project. You've done the area a big service."

"What's going to happen to her?" Dale asked.

"To begin with, she'll lose her real estate license. Then there will be charges of fraud brought against her. The third thing will be lawsuits to recover money she took illegally from clients.

"Will I be required to testify?" Dale asked.

"Probably not. You may have to give a deposition, but unless it goes to trial, I don't think so.

"Okay, thanks for your help," Dale told him.

"Not a problem, Dale, glad to help out and keep our profession honest. You need to make arrangements with Don to have an attorney draw up a new contract for this sale. Each of you should come out better than her deal, even if it had been an honest one."

"I'll get with him in the morning, unless there's a problem and you tell us to hold off."

"I'll let you and Don both know what happens regardless of how this turns out this afternoon - and I'm sure it won't be long before something happens.

They told each other goodbye and the connection was broken.

Craig arrived at the restaurant parking lot at exactly 12 noon. Dale was waiting inside when he went in. "Greg will have a table for us in a couple of minutes," Dale told him.

Although there were others who had been waiting for a table longer, Greg knew they were the only ones who needed a table for two, so it really wasn't a problem to get them seated right away.

"Hi Fellows," Greg said. "Great to see you again." He gave them menus after he seated them. About that time, one of the young trainees arrived with a basket of bread sticks and two water goblets.

"This place really has great service," Dale said, looking around.

"No wonder they are the top Italian restaurant in town. They've got good food, too."

Before Greg came back to take their order, the fellow tending bar set two glasses of Chianti on the table and softly said, "This is from Greg."

Although they had been given glasses of wine the last time they were here, both were impressed. Craig wondered how generous Greg was with other customers.

They decided on a large pizza, the "Special Deluxe" which they had ordered the first night at Dale's house. Both knew it was more than they could eat there, but it would make for a good snack at home this evening.

Greg was ready to take their order, but said, "I'm thinking about having some friends over to my place on Friday evening. Can you guys join the group?"

Craig and Dale's faces fell.

"Gee, Greg, we're sorry. We're going to Ft. Worth on Thursday night for a Builder's Trade Show and won't be home until Monday evening. Otherwise, we'd love to," Craig told him.

"Not a problem. I usually try to send out invitations earlier, but this sounds like something you've had planned for awhile anyway."

"This is an annual show and I haven't been for a couple of years, so Dale is going with me. He's never been to Ft. Worth or Dallas and we're having dinner with my parents in Arlington on Saturday night.

"Cool. You'll enjoy both towns, Dale. Lots of things to do and fun to be had," Greg said, smiling at both.

"That's what Craig tells me. I'm excited about it."

"Maybe we can get together next weekend?" Greg asked.

"We're going to a horse show in Waco," Dale said.

"Yeah, and I'm going as Dale's wife," Craig giggled.

"Well good for you, honey. Just be sure to take your best high heels, fur stole and pearls," Greg said, patting Craig on his back and heading to the kitchen to turn in their order.

They both laughed at that, but Craig was blushing and looked around to see if anyone sitting nearby had heard the last exchange. It didn't appear so.

"So, you must have talked to your mother this morning. What's the score there?"

Craig replied, "We're supposed to get there around 3:30. My sisters and their boyfriends are to get there about 5, so we'll have a family dinner after happy hour."

"Anything I should know about the family so I don't embarrass anyone?"

"No, we're all normal. My oldest sister, Susan, works for the City of Dallas as a planner in their street department. She's expecting to get a ring from her boyfriend, Chuck, at Christmas.

"My younger sister, Becky goes to SMU and seems to have a new boyfriend every few weeks. Either she has high standards for the guys she dates - or she doesn't put out," he laughed.

"You told me that before. Maybe we can question the current one and find out," Dale said, laughing, too.

"I don't even want to go there," Craig said. "At least we all get along well and my parents are accepting of me and are anxious to meet you."

"So I suppose that means I have to wear 'city clothes' and not talk like a hick."

"I dare you," Craig laughed again, then held up his glass in a mock toast.

"I wouldn't do anything to embarrass you. unless it was in front of friends," Dale teased.

"Oh, so you're going to save that routine for the second time you meet them?"

"You got it. Leave 'em wondering," Dale said, with a twinkle in his eyes.

About this time their salads arrived, although neither had ordered one.

Dale started to say something to the person who served it, but got cut off. "Greg said to bring these to your table."

"Make sure we get charged for these," Craig told Dale, although he knew they wouldn't be and he didn't know what to do about it.

"I don't think you've ever told me what your parents do for a living," Dale said, taking a bit of his delicious Italian salad.

"Dad's name is Frank and he's the business manager for the largest legal firm in Dallas. He likes gin martinis - like you and me - plays a great game of golf - unlike you and me and his hobby is model trains. You should see the basement. In fact, if I know him, he'll have all of us downstairs running trains. He has more equipment than Santa Fe."

Dale got a big grin on his face at the thought of getting play with model trains. He'd never had one.

"My mother has always been a housewife, active in everything us kids did, playing the suburban mother, being a taxi driver for the neighborhood kids and was the one that all the kids went to for comfort because generally most of their parents worked all the time. She always had plenty of cookies and refreshments for all the kids and most of them thought she was their second mother - or maybe their first one."

Dale, again, was impressed.

About that time Greg served their pizza. It was huge.

"Be prepared with a 'doggie bag'," Craig laughed, although he knew these pizzas were enough for a meal for 6 or eight people.

"I'll bring a box after you decide how much we need to sack up for you," Greg said.

"Thanks, Greg," Dale said.

"So, it sounds like your parents aren't upset about you bringing me home with you?"

"No. Not in the least. Mother will be jealous of me and Becky will probably try to make you her next conquest."

"Not interested - unless she can put out as well as you do." Dale laughed a "gottcha" laugh.

Craig knew he couldn't top that one. He didn't even try. He loved his man and thought it was wonderful they shared the same sense of humor and could tease each other.

"I have to be 'inspired'," he told Dale.

"Not going to venture there. I don't have a jacket to hold in front of my crotch when we leave."

Greg heard the last remark as he walked up to their table to see if they needed anything else.

"Guess you'll just have to let it all hang out," he said with a smirk on his face.

Both Dale and Craig turned slightly red.

"Hey, Greg, does an Italian salad come with the pizza? I don't remember that from before," Dale asked.

"Only for certain friends."

"We can't allow you to give us food and drink every time we come in here. Not that we don't appreciate it, but, it's not right."

"Look, this is my restaurant - or part of it is - and I like to do special things for my friends."

"We understand, it just makes us feel funny," Craig said, agreeing with Dale.

"Hey, fellows, my dad and mom do the same thing for their friends. We make good money here at the restaurant and we don't often have a chance to entertain friends at home, so we do it here."

"Okay, understood," Craig said. We really do appreciate it, but I think the next time we get together, it's our turn to do something nice for you."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there. Meanwhile enjoy my hospitality."

With that he put a pizza box on the table and left a check for the pizza.

"Thanks, Greg. We really appreciate your friendship and maybe after the horse show we can all get together for an evening."

"Okay. I'll look forward to it," Greg told them.

They had each eaten two large slices of pizza - half of it. Craig put the remaining slices in the box to take home. Dale stood up, pulled out his billfold and left a generous tip. Craig paid the check and they left the restaurant to go their separate ways, agreeing they would see each other at home around 5:45.

Craig headed to his office, as he wanted to sit in on the meetings with Warren Collins.

Dale drove off in the opposite direction, to drop some equipment at the welding shop to be repaired and pick up things he had left last week. The next stop was the farm supply store to pick up some small tools. He wondered how long it would be before these were lost. It seemed that they were always buying screwdrivers, pliers, cotter pins and leather gloves. He would have to look into that.

The last stop was Mercier's Jewelry Store and he was able to park right in front. Antoine came from the back as soon as Dale opened the door to step in.

"Ah. Mr. Richards." Antoine said.

"It's Dale," he answered.

"I'm sorry, Dale, I was taught that everyone was always addressed as Mr. or Mrs. Or Miss, if that was appropriate. I have a hard time getting used to the informal way the people in Texas address each other."

"That's not a problem," Dale said. "I just feel too young to be called Mister unless they are younger than I am. Like the kids on the little league team I help with."

"Point well taken, but there are a few people who like to be treated more formally," Antoine said.

"What may I help you with? There isn't a problem with the rings is there?"

"Oh no, I just chose not to wear mine since I work on a ranch and am around equipment that could tear a finger off if it snagged a ring. Besides, it would be too easy to lose and I'd never find it."

"I understand. Many men in your position don't wear jewelry at all except when they are off work or going to a formal affair."

"That's right," Dale agreed.

"What may I help you with?" Antoine asked.

"Well. Craig, my partner. his birthday is this weekend and I want to get him something that's personal. that he can wear and it be seen. Maybe a neck chain or a bracelet."

"Right now, neck chains seem to be more in fashion with men than bracelets are, but I do have a nice selection of each. Let me ask this, do you want something with a religious symbol, like a cross on it?"

"No, although he goes to church every Sunday, I just don't think he would like that."

"Come over here to this case," he said leading the way.

"I would guess that an 18-inch chain would be what you want." He took a thin stainless steel chain out of his pocket that had tags on it for various lengths.

"If you will excuse me, this is what an 18-inch chain would look on you." He faced Dale toward a mirror, then put the chain around his neck, adjusting the length to 18-inches so he could see. "Now that length chain can be seen when wearing an open- collar shirt. If I went to 21-inches, it would be lower on the neck and not be seen unless the man was wearing a very low-cut shirt or had a couple of buttons undone."

"I think maybe the 18-inch chain would be what I want to buy for him. He generally wears a polo shirt with none of the buttons fastened.

"I'll be glad to exchange it if he wants the other length. Now, these three trays have 18-inch chains in them," Antoine said, getting them out and placing them on the counter.

Dale immediately was taken with one that looked like a thin rope that appeared to have been braded and picked it up.

"That's a nice one. It's 18 karat gold, and is stronger than the others, which are made up of segments that are pressed into place. It's not as likely to snag on a bath towel or clothing. And. it has a good strong clasp on it."

"How much is this one?" Dale questioned, knowing he was going to buy it regardless.

"$179, but you are a good customer. I'll sell it to you for $149 since you bought your rings from me."

Dale decided that there must be a huge markup on jewelry, but the price was within the range he thought he wanted to spend, actually not having thought about it before.

"I'll take it.

"Ahh, very well. Would you like for me to gift wrap it for you?"

"That would be fine," Dale told him. "I can pay for it and pick it up later."

"I have some nice black boxes that hold these very well, and we generally attach a gold string bow to them for men's gifts. I'll show you, if you like."

He got one of the boxes, secured the chain to the inside, closed it and attached a piece of what looked like a metallic shoelace which he tied into a bow. Dale was amazed at the ease with which Antoine worked and the package was nice and masculine appearing.

Antoine rang the sale up and gave Dale the amount for his check, which he wrote out in his precise script. He was amazed that this man wrote such a beautiful hand for his rugged appearance.

"It's such a pleasure doing business with you and your partner, Craig. Please tell your friends to come see me for any of their jewelry needs. I can give them excellent quality at a reasonable price. They will be happy, eh?" Antoine said.

"Yes, you have been very good to us. Thank you for your help," Dale replied.

Antoine walked him to the door and shook hands as Dale stepped outside.

Dale's next stop was Morris Johnsmore's office to trade for his new MasterCard. He entered the front area and no one was at the secretary's desk. He stood there for about two minutes when a man walked to the inner office door and asked if he could help him.

"Yes, I'm Dale Richards and Morris told me to come past the office to pick up a new credit card for the Bar-W Ranch."

Bret Jenkins was astounded. This couldn't possible be Dale Richards. This man was the epitome of masculine looks, not some fag like he'd been told Dale was. Why, this man had more hair showing in the open V of his polo shirt than Bret had on his entire chest. This guy looked like he could wrestle a steer to the ground with no effort. the guy who used to appear in the Marlboro ads. No way, this guy couldn't be a faggot.

Bret realized that he was standing there; looking at Dale and his mouth was hanging open. He wondered how long he'd been staring at him.

He wasn't sure what he should do, but at that time Amanda Barton came back from the restroom. She, of course, knew Dale and greeted him.

"I have your new card. Morris was sorry he couldn't be here, but if you'll give me the card you've been using, I'll destroy it so it doesn't fall into the wrong hands."

Dale pulled out his billfold to give the card to Amanda. She handed Dale the new card with the Bar-W Ranch and his own name embossed on it. He handed her the card he'd used for the past week and she cut it up and tossed it in the wastebasket used to dispose of confidential paperwork.

Bret, was still standing in the door, looking at Dale, and trying to decide if he was a faggot or not.

Dale thanked Amanda and turned to leave the office. Bret was still standing there, staring at him. He walked over, holding out his hand. "I don't believe you told me your name?" forcing Bret to snap out of his thoughts.

"Oh. uhnn. I'm Bret Jenkins," he stumbled with the simple words.

"Yes, I was one of the coaches for your son's little league team a couple of years ago. How's he doing these days, anyway?"

"Uhn. errr. he's not too interested in baseball these days. He really puts a lot of effort into studying and. it's paid off. He's on the honor roll most of the time."

Dale, of course, wasn't about to tip his hand that he'd seen Bret Junior at church yesterday. "I'm sure he'll make a better honors student than baseball player," Dale told him.

Bret stood there, not knowing what to say.

Dale gave each a farewell wave as he walked out the door and got into his vehicle. the one Bret Senior had questioned him driving.

"My, weren't you just full of conversation?" Amanda teased Bret. "He must have the same effect on you that he does me. I'd date him in a minute if I was looking for a replacement for my husband," she giggled.

That snapped Bret out of his stupor. "I. I'm. not the one who's a faggot. He's supposed to be one, you know?" he told Amanda.

Amanda started laughing. "Oh Bret, you and your ideas about who's a faggot and all that rot. You really have a problem with that, don't you?"

"Well. that's what I've heard.

"Bret Jenkins. in the first place I don't think that anybody who looks like him could be a faggot - and even if he was, it's none of my concern unless I wanted to date him. I don't know what your obsession is with this idea, but you'd better watch out because our boss doesn't like bigots. and you are sounding like one."

At that Bret retreated into his workspace, mulling over the last five minutes.

Meanwhile, at Davy Crockett High School, Bret Junior had a free period and was in the library looking through the card catalogue, making notes to be able to pull books for reading later.

There were only four books that sounded like they might have information about teenagers and homosexuality. In fact, he could find very few references to homosexuality in the card file. He quickly found the first book and stood in the stack area, scanning it for information. Nothing of interest. or at least that he hadn't already read in another book at the Public Library.

It was the same thing for the next two books. The fourth book wasn't on the shelves and the bell rang for the next class. He sighed, thinking he would have to go back to the Public Library after school.

The last period was Phys Ed. and it went quickly for Jason and the other boys. He quickly took his shower when the period was over, anxious to meet Kevin and their father to go to Austin to look at puppies.

Word had gotten around school during the day about the rattlesnake and what had happened. A number of the boys had given both Kevin and Jason their condolences as they had been to the Bar-W Ranch to visit and thought Sandy was a great dog. Both were pleased that the other kids said something to them about it.

Marty was parked at the curb in the pick-up zone. Kevin was the first to the car and crawled in the back seat, leaning up to greet his father and give him a hug. Marty was pleased that the boys were so open in their display of affection of their parents. Jason was in the car within a minute of Kevin and he received a second greeting and hug.

Making sure the boys were buckled in, he started down the street, driving carefully to avoid kids walking where they weren't supposed to be and for school busses pulling away from the loading zones.

"Did you guys eat lunch together today?" he asked his sons.

"Yeah. and about 40 other kids, too," Kevin said. "Jack told some of the kids about what happened Saturday evening and they all wanted to know about it. A couple of the kids even asked me if they could have the dead snake, but I told them 'no'," Kevin said.

"Same thing happened to me, too. Some kids are so weird," Jason told them.

"Did you fellows talk about getting a new pup?" Marty asked.

"I think it would be so cool for each of us to have a dog," Kevin said.

"It's not just a matter of being 'cool'," Marty said. "Dogs are a big responsibility. As you know they have to be groomed, but aside from that with a pup you have to housebreak them and a young dog will require lots of attention because they will want to play all the time and if you want to teach them to do tricks, you need to do that when they are young, too. Also, you have to make sure they don't chew up furniture and clothing, because they will."

"Sandy never did that!" Jason was instantly protecting her.

"Oh yes, she did. Remember guys, your Mom and I got her before either of you were born. She ruined more than one piece of clothing and we had to have a chair rebuilt because she badly damaged a couple of the legs by chewing on them when she was cutting teeth.

"Jason, she was two years old when you were born. She's the one who housebroke you," Marty teased.

"Daaad!" Jason laughed.

"Well, maybe not exactly, but she slept under your crib from the first day we brought you home. And. she endured an awful lot as both of you were growing up. You would pull her fur, try to ride her like a pony and sometimes you were pretty rough with her, but she never growled or complained."

Kevin had tears in his eyes, upon hearing these things.

"Dad, but we didn't mean to hurt her."

"I don't think that you did her any physical harm, but she was very patient with both of you. I've seen her take toys that annoyed her and put them where you couldn't get to them," Marty laughed.

The boys both laughed, too.

"Regardless, a young dog is a lot of responsibility and you have to consider that Mrs. Wood has to keep track of it, too. She's the one who has to let the dog in and out when you aren't here. And. I'm not being cruel, but the dog is going to have to be kept in a cage until it's housebroken, so it's your responsibility to see to it that there are no accidents in the house."

"Wow, I never thought about all that," Kevin said.

"Dad, I understand, and Kevin and I'll see to it that the dog is cared for. I just never realized that a puppy was so much work, but we'll do it."

"So, what do you think? One dog or two?" Mary asked.

Kevin quickly thought this through. "Maybe just one puppy. What do you think, Jase?"

"Well, they would be good company for each other, but it's double the work."

Marty wasn't going to be part of this decision. If the boys wanted two dogs, that was fine with Chris and him. It was up to the boys.

"Can we wait to decide after we look at them?" Jason asked.

"That's fine," Marty told them. "Just be sure you are ready for the attention and care that's going to be needed.

Phyllis Richmond took the contracts and necessary paperwork to the Century Title Company to file it, giving a check that Don had made out for the purpose of paying the fee for the transaction and title insurance.

Her second stop was the Register of Deeds Office to have the sale recorded. She left more paperwork there, without bothering to have copies made.

Her third stop was the customer parking lot at the Republic of Texas Bank. They didn't have a drive-up facility so all business had to be transacted inside the lobby. She made a deposit her commission check into her personal account and a check for $958 into her "special" account that had been set up for this, the third deposit she'd made to it. The account would have a total of $3,858 in it after this deposit.

The Bank's regular guard was in another area of the bank as the Chief of Police had placed one of his own officers in the lobby. This officer knew Phyllis Richmond by sight and notified the Chief on his walkie-talkie when she entered the bank. That call resulted in two more patrolmen parking their cruiser in front of the bank. The inside guard was watching the teller accept the deposits and he gave the patrolman a pre-arranged signal after Phyllis stepped away from his window.

He immediately was on his radio to the dispatcher, who gave the patrolmen in front the okay to make the arrest.

They were getting out of their patrol car as she stepped onto the sidewalk. They allowed her to get about halfway to her car, and then moved in.

"Excuse me, Ma'am. Are you Phyllis Richmond?" he questioned.

"Yes, I am," she said, proud to be recognized.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, you are under arrest for real estate fraud."

She shrieked and screamed obscenities at the officers, who stood there listening until she wound down. Then they proceeded to read her the Miranda rights. "You have the right to remain silent. You have the right. as she started screaming again.

By this time two other officers were there to assist.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry to do this, but I have to put handcuffs on you. Please put your hands behind your back so I don't hurt you." He felt sorry for her as she wasn't a dangerous felon, but they had procedures to follow.

Phyllis was screaming, crying and shouting at the officers. How dare they humiliate her in front of the whole town? In reality, almost no one was paying any attention. They finally got her into the backseat of the patrol car and started for the Police Station.

Wes Owen had been notified as agreed so he arrived at the station just before the patrol car carrying two officers and Mz. Richmond. The second car carrying two more officers followed them.

As the officers arrived at the Police Station and started to help Phyllis Richmond out of the backseat, she started shrieking again, yelling that the men were being brutal and had no right to embarrass her in front of all her friends. Wes Owen was in the booking area and heard her pleas. He wondered "what friends" as she carried on.

She spied him as they led her in. "Wes, darling, help me. This has got to be a joke. These men are so cruel." her litany getting louder and louder.

A photographer for the Williamsport Journal happened to be in the room as they had brought in a suspect in a robbery a little earlier and he had managed to get a good shot of him as they booked him into the jail.

He couldn't believe that the officers had Phyllis Richmond in handcuffs and was able to get a good picture as the two men led her in.

This further added to her distress and although he wasn't a reporter, he decided to stick around to find out what the charges were.

Amazingly they took the cuffs off, fingerprinted her, took her picture and then led her to a small courtroom for arraignment. This whole procedure took less than 10 minutes. Judge Daniels was robed and ready to make his appearance as soon as everyone was sitting down. He made quick work of reading the charges against her and asked if she had representation of an attorney.

"No, Judge. I don't know what this is all about," she said calmly.

"The charges are that you have committed fraud, have taken money that doesn't belong to you and deposited it in an account over which you have sole control. If you can't afford an attorney, this court will appoint one to represent you."

"I'll hire my own attorney, thank you." She was beginning to get scared.

"I hereby release you on your own recognizance and will waive bail since you are not likely to flee the jurisdiction of this court. You will be notified when this matter is to come before the District Court." With that he banged his gavel, stood up and left the courtroom.

Phyllis knew she had been caught, but didn't realize just how serious the crime or charges were. She turned around and spotted Wes Owen and Gus Douglas in the courtroom.

She rushed over to the men, acting like her usual arrogant self, ignoring Wes and gushing over Gus. "Will you straighten this mess out for me?"

"Sorry Phyllis. I represent the Williamsport Realtor's Association on this one."

"I don't understand what's going on."

"Phyllis, you need to get your own attorney. It's the Williamsport Realtor's Association that is bringing charges against you. The only thing I can say is that your realtor's license is being pulled as of now and you may lose it for good, depending on the outcome of this suit," Gus told her.

She started to argue that she was being unfairly treated when Wes shook his head.

"Phyllis, we can't help you. You need to get your attorney for your defense." With that he and Gus walked out of the room.

The two patrolmen who had been in the second car offered to drive Phyllis to the parking lot at the bank to retrieve her car. At first she was going to refuse them, but realized she would have to walk about six blocks or call a taxi. She allowed them to provide transportation and actually thanked them as she got out of the cruiser.

A very shaken Phyllis Richmond got in her car and drove to her residence. She hoped she had enough vodka to see her through the evening.

Bret Junior went to the Public Library immediately after school. They had the book he couldn't locate in the High School Library. He sat down to read it and when he opened the book a business card fell out. It was for the "Teen Line" at the Gay and Lesbian Center in Austin. There was an "800 number" listed where he could call to get a local number if he wanted help, information or counseling. He wrote the number down, and then proceeded to scan the book. This was by far the most comprehensive information he'd seen yet.

There was a chapter on pedophiles and he read this with interest because it described some of the things that had happened the times he'd been with Rev. Billy Bob Jones. And. here in print was the reason that Billy Bob had turned him away. He was entering puberty at the time this had happened. Many pedophiles didn't want anything to do with boys who were showing signs of maturity, growing pubic hair, hair in the armpits or signs of facial hair being listed as some of the possible reasons.

He suddenly felt better about what had happened over three years before. At least he could now think it wasn't something he had done to offend Rev. Billy Bob Jones.

Included in the book were chapters titled "Why I Have Two Dads" and "Why I Have Two Moms". Although this didn't apply to him, he read the one about "Dads" with interest. Then the next chapter dealt in some detail about relationships between two men. That answered some questions he had about his new friends Dale and Craig, his schoolteacher friends, Mr. Bryant and Mr. Thompson and the priest, Fr. George and Paul, the Music Director and Organist.

The only information the book didn't seem to contain was the answer to his personal question, "Am I Gay"?

Marty drove into "Sharpe's Collie Haven" kennels in Rollingwood, a western suburb of Austin. This was the largest kennel in the area and they bred only Collies, German Shepherds and Shelties. The same family had owned the business from the time it had been started 45 years earlier when the first owner returned home from Army service after World War II.

A young fellow, who was probably in his mid-20's came out to greet them. Marty shook hands, and then introduced his sons. Phil Sharpe greeted Jason and Kevin, then told Marty, "I've been expecting you. We talked on the phone earlier. You're interested in a female, right?"

"Yes," Marty told him.

"I have 6 right now. Three in each litter and they are 10 and eleven weeks old. We raise our dogs in as much of a 'home- type' setting as we can. The puppies stay with their mother and we feel that extra time is beneficial to the temperament of the dogs. Many breeders sell the puppies at 8 weeks or even younger and we just feel we have better adjusted pups to offer for sale."

"As you know, we bought our last dog from you and she was certainly a good dog."

"I'm sorry about what happened, but it sounds as if she was really looking out for her masters," Phil said.

Before anyone could say anything, Phil continued, "Come on back to the kennels and see the dogs."

The four moved through a door. Sure enough instead of being in cages, the dogs were in pens where the mother dog could easily get in and out. In most cases, even though the pups had quit nursing weeks earlier, the mother still looked in on them and played with them without any urging on the part of the kennel owners.

There were 14 pens set up at the present time, 9 of which contained Collie families of various ages. Phil proudly led the way to the two litters that were available.

Marty knew that one way to pick a puppy was to see which were the most active and which came to you without urging. This wasn't a problem here, all eleven puppies in the two pens were clamoring for attention from the prospective new masters. No shy pups here.

Marty was reminded that two of the pups looked like Sandy when they first got her, but he didn't say anything. Each of the three handled all six of the females and the males wanted their share of the attention, too. They were just learning to bark and were using their newfound voices to express their displeasure at being ignored. It was a riot, with dogs climbing over each other vying for attention. Marty was glad he didn't have to make the decision as to which one to buy. Any one or two that the boys chose was fine with him.

While the boys were playing with the puppies, Marty asked Phil if it was possible to see the mothers of the two litters.

"Sure, I'll go get them," he said.

He was soon back with the two mothers following him. The first was "Pepper" and she was 5 years old. She immediately got into the pen with her litter and while the pups were glad to see her, they wanted the attention Jason and Kevin were giving them.

The other dog was "Ginger", beautifully marked and six years old. Her litter was the one that was 10 weeks old. She got a little more attention from her litter than Pepper did, but not much.

Phil had the "family tree" for both litters and Marty looked it over, with Phil pointing out the fact that there were plenty of champions in the bloodline. Although they were buying a dog for a pet, Marty was interested in what Phil had to say, just as he would be if it were a horse he was buying. As it turned out, the two litters were closely related and had many of the same sires and dams.

Marty turned his attention back to the boys and the puppies.

"Any clue as to which one?" he asked.

"It's hard to choose. What do you think?" Jason asked Marty.

"I think it's up to you boys. She's going to be your dog and you have to take care of her."

Kevin spoke up. "Are we gonna get two, Dad?"

"Again, that's up to you. It's fine with me, but there's no shirking taking care of them. I don't want Jason to end up taking care of your dog, or the other way around."

"I want this one," Jason said, holding a pup that was licking his face.

"I like that one, too, but if we get two, I want this one." That puppy was one of Ginger's litter. The one Jason was holding belonged to Pepper's litter.

Marty turned to Phil. "The boys have decided on the two they are holding now, so I guess you can gift wrap them," he laughed.

"Would you settle for a bow around their necks?" Phil answered, also laughing.

"Sounds good to me, but you'd better ask the new masters."

"Daad." Kevin said.

"You boys take the pups out on the lawn and see if they will take care of their business before we get in the car."

Phil spoke up. "I need to get the numbers off their neck tags so we have the right papers for each before you go outside."

He quickly wrote the numbers down so he could match up the registration applications with the dogs so they could be registered with the AKC.

"What have you been feeding the dogs?" Marty asked.

"Science Diet Dry Food for Puppies. We had been soaking it in water until last week, but their jaws are strong enough to handle it dry now."

"Good, we always fed Sandy their Maintenance Diet, mixed with the Senior Food, too. She was always healthy."

"It's a good product. I'll give you a 10 pound sack to get you started."

Marty wrote out a check for the dogs. When he went outside, the boys were romping on the grass with their new pups. They were having a ball as they had never been outside their pen before and this was a new adventure for both the young masters and their new puppies.

(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 postings, please let me know by sending your request to the following e-mail address: TulsaDriller7@aol.com

Thanks for the overwhelming response to previous chapters. I have received positive replies from all over the world. My special thanks for proofreading help to Paul Daventon, author of "Turning the Page" found in the "Adult-Friends" section of Nifty. Please read it.