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 34: Holy what?
Bret Jenkins, Junior heard the telephone ring, then his mother answered it. He was on his way to the kitchen to get a drink of water when he heard her end of the conversation.
"Bret went with Rev. Jimmy Bob this evening. He said something about going to see if they could find out who was going to the meeting this evening over at the 'fag cathedral' as he calls it. Honestly, I think the man is obsessed with this idea."
Pause
"No, but he seems to be determined that these people, whoever they are, are out to do harm to the community."
Pause
"Rev. Jimmy Bob and Bret plan to make the names of these people known to everyone. He seems to think that we have schoolteachers and other prominent people who are queer, as he puts it, in places of authority and that the Williamson family is making large contributions to fund this group and keep it going."
Bret Junior had heard enough. He had to warn Fr. George and the other people who were going to the meeting. Without saying anything to his mother, he tore out the backdoor, hopped on his bike and hightailed it over to the St. James rectory.
There were already several cars in the parking lot and on the street. He noticed a Plymouth minivan parked a couple of houses down and thought it looked like the one belonging to his family. He raced up the sidewalk, dropping his bike on the lawn, then ran up the stairs and into the house, since the front door was open.
Fr. George was in the front hall, greeting the last arrivals when Bret burst through the door. He was out of breath.
"Quick, Rev. Jimmy Bob and my Dad are spying on the people who are coming to your meeting tonight. They want to make sure that other people know who is here."
Fr. George turned to look at Bret, and then was aware of a lot of flashing lights in front of the rectory. Dale and Craig heard part of what Bret Junior said and walked back into the hall, then onto the front porch with the others. Those already in the house followed, too.
It was a spectacle to behold. Here were two Williamsport Police Department cruisers parked in the middle of the street and four patrolmen approaching the minivan with guns drawn.
"No, it's my Dad!!" screamed Bret as he realized that his father was in danger.
He started to run off the porch, but Dale's quick reflexes enabled him to grab Bret. Eddie walked over and grabbed his other arm.
"It's okay. This is just standard police procedure," Dale said, knowing it wasn't true.
By this time both Rev. Jimmy Bob and Bret Senior were standing on the street in the classic position, hands above them on the minivan, legs spread and being patted down by the officers. The officers then put their guns away.
A crowd of neighborhood people began to gather on the lawn across the street.
Since Lt. Marilyn Kolb was the ranking officer, she took charge of the scene, directing her questions to Bret.
"What were you doing, sitting in the van and watching people through binoculars?"
He was flustered, to say the least.
"Uhmmnn. we came to see who was attending this meeting. of all the faggots. here tonight. We need to know who they are because they are dangerous."
By this time, Fr. George had arrived at the street, in front of the van. He heard both the question and the answer.
Needless to say, neither he nor Marilyn were pleased with what they heard.
"See here, these faggots are causing trouble right now. They called the police because they feel threatened that we're going to expose them for what they are," Jimmy Bob screamed.
It was all Fr. George could do to keep from laughing.
"And exactly what did you plan to do with this information?" asked Lt. Marilyn Kolb.
"Expose them to the town. This has gone on too long. We have fag schoolteachers here tonight and that man that's the manager at the Williamson ranch. he's a fag and he and another fag have a young boy with them that they've recruited and are going to train him to be a fag, too!!!" Jimmy Bob added.
About that time, Alan Zimmer and his lover and law partner, Jeffery Fields parked their car in the parking lot of the church and started across the street. Tom and Eddie were standing on the sidewalk in front of the rectory and greeted the two newcomers as they walked up.
"What's going on?" Alan asked.
"We're not for sure, but I think we were being spied on to see who is attending the meeting tonight. The fat guy is the Reverend Jimmy Bob Jones, a local zealot who crusades against gay people. I'm not sure who the other person is, but I think he must be one of his disciples," Eddie answered.
Tom shook hands with Jeffery. "Good to see you again. under other circumstances," he told him.
"Likewise, I think. and that depends on what is going on, I guess," Jeffery smiled.
"We haven't been able to hear everything that's going on, but the guy on the driver's side is the father of the boy on the porch. He must have found out what they were going to do and tried to come warn us. The police arrived about the same time he did," Eddie told them. About that time Tricia Sutton walked up to join the four men.
"Hi," she said, shaking hands. "I'm Tricia Sutton and I've met all of you except for this man," she said, indicating Jeffery.
"I'm Jeffery Fields. I'm Alan's lover and law partner."
"Of course. He talked about you at the last meeting. Welcome to Peyton Place," she laughed.
By this time the crowd across the street had grown to about 50 people.
"What happened?" Tom asked Tricia, since she must have seen more than the rest.
"I picked Marilyn up at the Police Station about 6:15, right after her shift ended. We came over here in my car and parked behind the minivan. The brake lights were flashing on and off when we got out of the car. Marilyn and I walked up to where we could see Rev. Jimmy Bob in the passenger seat. He and the other guy were watching with binoculars, I guess to see who came to our meeting.
"We turned around and she called for a couple of patrol cars to come here, to block their exit. That's about all I know, except that they both got pretty loud and told the police that they were going to expose all of us for being fags." She laughed. I've never heard a dyke called a fag before, but I guess if the shoe fits, wear it."
The four men laughed, too.
The gathering across the street kept growing.
Alan spoke up. "I see Fr. George out by the curb, I'm going to go talk to him."
Paul walked out to the sidewalk. "Why don't you come on inside and have a drink and some snacks while we wait for this to be over?"
He gathered the rest of the group and they went inside.
"Is my Dad gonna be okay?" Bret Junior asked.
"I'm sure there isn't going to be a problem. This will be settled peacefully since there wasn't a fight," Eddie told him.
"He really gets all agitated about the subject of fags, excuse me, that's what he calls them. Rev. Jimmy Bob is even worse because he gets up in the pulpit and preaches about it, condemning all of them. Well, he isn't any saint himself, 'cause he likes to play with young boys." Bret didn't mean to reveal that last little bit, but then suddenly realized that's what his problem had been all along. Jimmy Bob had played with him until he started to grow up. He only wanted young boys that hadn't started through puberty.
Tom steered Bret away from the group and Eddie followed. They sat down in the next room. "I think you just said something that you might not have intended to reveal, but if you want to talk about it, you may be a big help to those of us who are harassed by people like Rev. Jimmy Bob."
"In fact, if you will talk about it, I think it might be a good idea if Fr. George and one of the gentlemen from Austin hear what you have to say," Tom told Bret.
About this time a photographer/reporter for the Austin American-Statesman arrived. He really was freelance, selling his stories and pictures where he could, but sold more to the Austin paper than anywhere else.
Lt. Kolb, Fr. George and Alan Zimmer had a conference, standing a little way apart from the other officers and the two men who had decided to spy.
"What do you want to do about this?" Marilyn asked.
"How did the Police get involved?" Fr. George questioned.
"I called for two patrol cars." She then told about seeing the brake lights flash and that Rev. Jimmy Bob and Bret were watching people arrive, using binoculars.
"We found a notebook in the front seat. They were writing down names of people they recognized, so Tom, Eddie, Dale, Craig, a teen-age boy and Ray were listed. There were some other notations, like 'guy at Texaco' and 3 women. Obviously they knew who a few people were, but not even half the group.
"Nobody puts much faith in what Rev. Jimmy Bob Jones has to say and I've heard that his attendance is declining and he's having a hard time paying the bills. The other fellow is Bret Jenkins, Senior and he works as an accountant for Morris Johnsmore, who is a member of St. James. Bret Jenkins, Junior heard they were going to spy on us and rode over here on his bicycle to warn us, but the police arrived as he came in the house," Fr. George said.
"We really can't arrest them without someone filing charges and I'm not really sure what we could charge them with. The fact that they were sitting in the street means they weren't trespassing on private property and what they were doing is like having a nosey neighbor who has to know everything that is going on and making up what they don't see for sure," Alan told them.
"It's true they were being malicious, but somehow I really doubt that they have that much influence in town. A few well- placed words with friends will pretty well negate any impact their accusations might generate," Alan continued.
"It's unfortunate that we have bigots in the clergy, but I wonder if he's even ordained, except in his own mind," Fr. George said. "At least he doesn't call himself 'Doctor Jimmy Bob Jones,' as some of his colleagues do."
The three of them laughed.
"I suggest that you allow them to go peacefully, but with a warning that if they are caught again, an arrest warrant can be sworn against them," Alan said.
Since Jimmy Bob and Bret were on opposite sides of the minivan, they couldn't confer with each other and if they tried to move they were told to stay as they were. So, it was a relief when Lt. Kolb directed two of the officers to bring the men to the front of the vehicle.
The photographer moved up to where he could hear and take a picture of Rev. Jimmy Bob and Bret.
Alan Zimmer took charge.
"I'm Alan Zimmer from Austin and I am a member of the national board of Dignity, which here in Williamsport has merged with the Integrity group. I am an attorney and my law firm is nationally known for its expertise in gay issues and litigation. We are members of the bar in 41 states and the District of Columbia and hope to have a gay discrimination case before the United States Supreme Court soon.
"I'm not sure what you expect to do with the information you've gained tonight by spying on this group of Christian men and women who meet at St. James Church, but I'm going to recommend that the Police allow you to go peacefully. However, if this happens again I will personally file charges against you in their behalf.
"Sir, I understand that you are a minister, one who is overly zealous in your efforts to impress your views on others and that you claim to hate people simply because they are homosexuals. It is not a crime for them to meet here, any more than it is for you to believe the way you do. However, I do need to warn you that your bigotry will not be tolerated and if it continues, we will deal with it in a way that is probably not going to be to your liking.
"As for you, sir," speaking to Bret, "I would advise you to find another leader to follow before this one gets you in more trouble than you already have."
The photographer snapped several pictures, one of Jimmy Bob and Bret, one of Fr. George and Alan and one of Lt. Marilyn Kolb.
Marilyn told them they were free to go and asked that the police cars be moved out of the way.
The photographer tried to talk to Jimmy Bob and Bret, but they ignored him. He then turned to Alan Zimmer, trying to introduce himself and get a statement.
"You were here and heard what I had to say just now. I don't think it's necessary that I add anything to it. Thank you for your interest, though."
Lt. Kolb said that she could not discuss this because she was off duty and the other three officers kept quiet, too.
The crowd was disappointed that there hadn't been any action, pushing, shoving and yelling. They began to disburse, too.
Bret barely waited for Rev. Jimmy Bob to shut his door before shoving his minivan in gear and leaving the scene. He didn't know that the vehicle was capable of burning rubber.
"Your son caused all this problem, you know. I hope you're happy. You've embarrassed me to no end!" Jimmy Bob spouted out.
"What the fuck are you talking about? He only got there seconds before the police."
"He must have called them from your house before he left to go to that damn fag meeting. Is he a fag, too?" Jimmy Bob asked. He was seething.
"NO," Bret yelled. He got curious about their church and went there one Saturday. Raved on and on about how beautiful it was and how grand everything was. They invited him to go back the next morning and he went. I told him to stay away because they try to recruit boys like him to do nasty things."
Rev. Jimmy Bob had a flashback to the time that Bret was about 10 or eleven years old. The word "nasty" had triggered it.
"Take me home, Bret," Jimmy Bob said sadly.
When the rest of the people came inside, Tom stopped Fr. George and Alan in the front hall.
"Bret Junior revealed some information that he may not have intended, but has agreed to talk to us about it. I suggested that Fr. George, Alan, Jeffery and Eddie and I hear what he has to say. It may not be a pretty picture."
Fr. George looked sad. "I usually don't hear confessions on Sunday," he said, trying to smile.
The men joined together in the front parlor with the door shut. Bret looked a little frightened, but in his own mind he knew that Rev. Jimmy Bob Jones had put him through his own personal hell and he had just realized what had caused the problem.
Fr. George started. "Bret, Tom said that you have some information that you might want to share with us. I can assure that what you might have to say will be held in confidence by all of us, unless you say that it's okay for us to reveal it. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"All right then, just go slowly; we may stop you to ask questions to clarify things from time to time," Fr. George said.
"I've been real confused for a long time and I didn't know why. Then tonight it kind of all came back to me. When I was little, I think maybe about 10 years old, Rev. Jimmy Bob seemed to like me. He was always finding an excuse for me to help him with something at the church and in his office.
"I don't remember when we first started doing things, but I remember the first time was when I had to go pee and he went to the bathroom with me. I pulled out my little cock and just peed up a storm. I realized that Rev. Jimmy Bob had pulled his cock out, too, but it was huge. Of course, I'd never seen anything like it because I'd never even seen my Dad's cock. I was fascinated by it because he had huge balls that hung down below it and he was all hairy - really hairy down there.
"He'd have my parents take me to the church for extra study and they were dumb enough not to question him. It always ended up the same way. He would fondle me and I guess maybe I'd have a dry orgasm - I know it sure felt good, but other than a tingle, nothing happened.
"He'd make me touch and rub his cock, too. Usually some sticky liquid would leak out the end. He told me to taste it and I did, but didn't like it. Then about the time I started growing some hair down there, I discovered that I could make some sticky stuff shoot out of my cock, too. It really felt good. The next time he played with me, it happened and he got mad because it got all over him.
"I didn't know what happened, because that was the last time I was ever at the church and alone with him. He threatened me and told me not to tell anyone what had happened. He told me that he'd see to it that I went to hell if I ever told anybody.
"My brother, Paul, asked me about Rev. Jimmy Bob once. Now I wonder if they did stuff together. I wouldn't talk to him about it because I was scared of Rev. Jimmy Bob."
Bret felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders.
"Thank you for telling us this," Fr. George said. "Why don't you go out and get something to eat and drink and then one of us will take you home when you are ready to go."
Suddenly Bret was scared to death. "I'm afraid to go home. My Dad's gonna know that I came over here to tell you they were going to spy on you. Oh. NO!!! What am I gonna do? I can't go home." He started crying.
"Come on, Bret. Let's go get something cold to drink and see what Paul fixed to eat, then we'll talk about this." Tom led him out of the room.
"Geez," said Jeffery. "I don't know how many times we've heard this story. just different characters each time."
"I can relate to what he's saying," said Eddie. Tom and I have counseled a couple of boys in their early teens that came from that church. Same story, when they started puberty, Rev. Jimmy Bob dropped them after threatening them. Of course they wouldn't agree to talk to the authorities with us because Jimmy Bob and told them they would go to hell if they told what had happened."
"One of the boys talked about suicide, but we got him past that. We did talk to his parents and they finally convinced him that they loved him regardless of what had happened. They moved away from Williamsport, just to get him away from his memories. I only hope that they managed to get him to a counselor before it was too late," said Tom.
Fr. George spoke up. "Rev. Jimmy Bob has probably damaged more souls than the number he's saved - if even any of those."
"I don't know if we have any case here," said Alan. "But we might be able to make it pretty uncomfortable for the Rev. Jimmy Bob Jones."
"What can we do?" asked Fr. George.
"Let Jeff and I think about this for a couple of days and we'll see if we can find some ruling that will help us - and you, too," Alan told them.
The meeting and program never took place that evening. Paul served more than the usual amount of liquor to the group and the snacks disappeared in pretty short order, too.
The group stood around in small clusters, not really knowing what they should do.
Finally, Alan took the floor.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began. "I know that the events this evening show that we are more vulnerable than we think we are, but I don't think there is anything here for us to fear. If Rev. Jimmy Bob Jones tries to make an issue out of this, we have information we can use to keep him quiet. And Bret, don't worry about anything. We are going to take you home after awhile and myself and one other person from Williamsport are going to talk to your father. If he gives us trouble, then there are several people here who are willing for you to stay in their home where you will be safe."
"Thanks, sir." Bret stammered, "but I'm worried about my Mom, too. Sometimes my Dad gets upset and hits her, too..."
He went to Eddie and buried his face in his chest. The tears flowed.
Fr. George spoke up. "You are welcome to stay and talk this through for as long as you like. I think any program that we had planned for tonight should be rescheduled for our next meeting."
There was agreement from the group, but no one left just yet.
Craig asked Joey, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm not sure what's going on, but I think it has to do with what we talked about earlier - not telling anyone anything unless we trusted them."
"You are right, and sometimes it even involves those whom we think we can trust," Craig answered.
"Is the other boy. Bret.. going to be okay?" Joey asked.
"Yes, he's had problems with his father before," Craig said quietly.
"Can I talk to him?" Joey asked.
"Sure. He might like to talk to another person his own age," Dale said, having just walked up during the conversation.
Joey went to where Bret was standing with Eddie.
"Hi, with everything that is going on, we didn't get to meet each other," Joey said.
Bret gave him a weak handshake. "I'm Bret Jenkins. Junior, although I'm not sure I want to be a 'junior' right now."
"I'm Joey Sullivan. I'm just moving to Williamsport from Houston and will be starting school in another week."
"Are you here because you're gay?" Bret asked.
"No. at least I don't think so. My Dad just died on Friday evening and I'm going to be living with Dale and Craig. They're going to be my new Dads.
"I'm sorry about your Dad, but it's cool that you are going to be living with Dale," replied Bret. "He was my baseball coach when I was in little league. I wasn't a very good player, though."
"That's great. I play baseball, too."
"I decided not to play anymore, but I'm on the honor roll now. I like to study and learn new things."
"That's okay. I've been on the honor roll since I was in the 5th grade. I like history and music," Joey told him.
"What grade are you in?" Bret asked.
"The ninth. I guess you will call me a freshman here. In Houston, the 9th grade was the last year of middle school."
"I just started my Junior year," Bret told him.
"I'm sorry about your Dad and the other man. Is he really a minister?" Joey asked.
"He claims to be, but I don't think he really loves God, like we're supposed to," Bret answered.
"Well, if you need somebody to hang with, let me know because I don't have any friends here yet. but I did meet some nice people from the church I'm attending with my two new Dads."
"I'd like that, Joey. I've not had very many friends because I was ashamed of myself, but now I know that it wasn't my fault. So, give me your telephone number," said Bret.
There was a pad and pen on the coffee table. Joey wrote down his new telephone number and gave the slip to Bret, telling him that he would be starting school in another week.
After a lot of discussion and many drinks for everyone, it was time for the party to break up. The major problem was what to do about Bret. He was afraid to go home because he was sure his father would be irate and blame the problem on him.
It was decided that Dale would haul his bicycle since he drove the Blazer, although several others had pickups. Since Dale knew Bret Senior slightly from Morris Johnsmore's office, he felt comfortable in being part of the group to accompany Bret Junior home.
The other people to go along were Fr. George, Eddie Thompson and Alan Zimmer. They went in two vehicles, parking in front of the Jenkins home. Bret Junior wasn't too anxious to see his father, but Fr. George had convinced him that it was something that had to be done.
The Plymouth minivan was parked on the driveway and they waited until Bret had put his bicycle in the open garage.
Fr. George rang the doorbell and Beth Jenkins answered the door. She saw Bret Junior and came out on the step to embrace him. "You didn't tell me you were leaving," she said. Then your father came home and he's in a foul mood and won't talk to me. He just said it was 'all your fault.' What did you do?"
"Mrs. Jenkins, I'm Father George Tikker from St. James Episcopal Church. This is Dale Richards, who is the General Manger of the Bar-W Ranch; Eddie Thompson, who is on the athletic staff for the Williamsport schools and Alan Zimmer, an attorney from Austin."
"Goodness gracious, what's going on? Why are all of you bringing Bret Junior home?" she asked.
"Did your husband talk to you about what happened this evening?" Fr. George inquired.
"No, he came home. He was mad and wouldn't eat any dinner. Whatever happened put him in a really foul mood. more so than usual," she added quietly.
"I suggest that you get him to come out here as we have some things we need to discuss with him," Alan said.
"Oh. I can't bother him. He wouldn't like it at all. It might cause some problems. later," she again kept getting quieter and quieter.
"Bret, I don't know what happened, but I think we need to find a place for you to stay tonight. I've never seen him so mad and I'm afraid for you."
"Mom, if I leave, he'll just take it out on you and maybe the others, too. I need to stay here to protect you."
Eddie spoke up. "If you won't get him out here, then show us which room he's in because we are not going to leave here until we talk to him." Eddie was not happy with she and Bret trying to protect her husband and didn't realize until later that she was afraid of him and had possibly been abused on more than one occasion.
"Uhnn. I can't do that. he wouldn't like it and."
"Mom, if you won't tell them where he is, then I will," Bret Junior spoke up.
"Oh, honey, I can't let you do that. Remember his temper." she quietly said.
Fr. George turned around to Dale. "Do you have your cell phone with you?"
"Yes."
He whispered, "Be prepared to call 911 if he gives any trouble. I think we may have a case of family abuse here."
Bret Junior simply said, "Mom. it's time for his abuse to stop. That's why these men are here."
He looked at the men. "For the last few months he's been really hard to get along with and when things don't go his way, he sometimes slaps my mother and me around. He's never bothered the other three kids. yet, but he becomes irrational over the littlest things. Usually it's after he's been with Rev. Jimmy Bob."
Eddie spoke up. "Mrs. Jenkins if Bret Junior needs a place to stay tonight, he can stay at my place. And. if you are afraid of him, you and the other children are welcome to come along, too. We have plenty of room."
"Mom." Bret said.
"I don't think he'll hurt me over this, but I'm afraid for you. He was yelling that it was all your fault the police were there. I told him that I didn't know anything about it, but he went to our room. He was swearing. that's something else he never used to do. and said he would punish you so badly you would never disobey him again."
"Mrs. Jenkins," Fr. George said quietly. "Bret didn't call the police. An off duty officer belongs to our group and she called because of the suspicious activity in front of the church rectory."
"He'll never believe that," Bret said. "He won't believe anything I try to tell him."
"Mrs. Jenkins, with your permission and, if Bret wants to, I'll take him home with me."
"That's probably a good idea, at least until he has a chance to calm down and maybe think about it a little bit," Beth said.
"Bret, do you want to come with me?" Eddie asked.
"Yeah, I'd better. It's hard to tell what might happen."
"Then I'll go with you to get clothes and other things you need tomorrow. Tomorrow night we will figure out what has to be done, if you can come back here or stay with us a little longer," Eddie told him.
"Okay," Bret said. "Come on, my room is this way."
Eddie followed him down the hall to the basement stairs. His room was in the basement and next to the room his brothers, Paul and Terry, shared.
Bret Senior had heard voices, then was aware of footsteps heavier than his son should be making. Without thinking the situation through, he opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the hall, almost running into Eddie.
"What the fuck are you doing in my house, you god-damned fag!" he almost screamed.
Eddie started to answer him.
"Go ahead and take him with you. You and the people over at that fag cathedral have recruited him. he deserves to be a little fag because that's what he is. He's the scum of the earth and so are you and the others of your kind over there!!"
About that time, Dale and Fr. George came down the hall to see what the disturbance was about, although they had heard everything that had been said.
Bret Senior started in on Dale. "This is really nice, isn't it? You've got a little fag of your own and now you're taking my son to be his pal. Well, he's not my son anymore, I don't want him around here."
Eddie quietly said to Bret Junior, "Come on let's get your clothes and school stuff."
Bret Junior started crying, but took Eddie's hand and led him into his room.
Well, what are you looking at?" he yelled at Dale and Fr. George.
"I'm looking at a very pathetic mess, a man who doesn't deserve the wonderful family that he has. I'm also looking at a man who has gotten so wrapped up in following Rev. Jimmie Bob Jones that he's lost track of what's right and what's wrong. I'm looking at a man who does his bidding without thinking what the outcome might be."
Bret Senior had heard enough. "Why you dirty-minded faggot." He wound up like he was going to punch Dale. As he let fly, Dale grabbed his wrist and slammed Bret against the wall. The distinct sound of a breaking bone was heard by all of them.
At first there was deathly silence, then Bret yelled. "Oh, god-damn, I think you broke my wrist. I'll get you for this." He started babbling like a child. It was hard to tell if he was incoherent or crying. He sunk to the floor.
Dale started to help him up.
"Get your fucking filthy faggot hands off me!!" He started to stand up and it appeared that he was going to try to hit Dale with his other hand.
Dale grabbed his left arm and held him tightly. "Do you want to try for a matched pair? I'd be glad to help you out, then you'd have both arms in a cast and be totally dependent for someone to take you to the bathroom, feed you and tend to your other needs."
"Get your fuckin' hands off me. I told you before and I'll tell you again. Get out of here and take my faggot son with you. I ought to call the police and have you arrested. You broke into my house, accosted me, broke my arm and treated me badly."
Dale gave him his 1000-watt smile as he produced his cell phone. "Would you like for the same officers you talked to earlier to come over here, or would you like some different ones? Your choice."
"Why you." Bret couldn't think of anything to say.
By that time Bret Junior had gathered up his things and he started down the hall with Eddie leading the way.
"Damn faggots." Bret hissed at them.
By that time his lower arm was starting to throb and he was feeling the effects of the break. "I'll sue you. Every last one of you - you god-damned faggots!!"
Bret told his mother goodbye. "Are you going to be okay, Mom?" he asked.
"Yes, I think so," she wearily replied. "I don't think he's in any condition to hit me tonight. And, we still have to take him to the emergency room."
Eddie gave her a card. "Here's my address and phone number. Bret will be safe and if you need anything at all, call me. We'll take care of him for you, but I'll call you tomorrow to see if there's anything you need."
"Thank you. All of you. I think," she told them as they went out the door.
"Are you happy with yourself now?" she asked Bret Senior. It seems like you've really made a fool of yourself in front of a bunch of strangers." She didn't know what had given her the moxie to confront her husband. She had never done it before and it felt good.
Bret just looked at her like he didn't believe what he'd just heard.
Bret Junior got his bicycle out of the open garage and they loaded it in the back of Eddie's pickup.
Dale took Fr. George and Alan Zimmer back to the rectory. They sat in back with Joey. Craig was in the front passenger seat.
As Dale drove down the street, Fr. George said, "Just when you think you've seen everything, you realize that there are another million stories out there. I hope for the sake of that family that Bret Jenkins, Senior gets some help and the rest need family counseling, too, so they can realize that his problems are not their fault."
"This has been quite an evening for Williamsport, hasn't it?" Craig said.
"That it has," said Alan. "Usually we think of something like this happening in a larger city like Austin. Dale, if he tries to file charges against you for the broken wrist, I'll be glad to represent you at no charge."
Before Dale could reply, Joey spoke up. "Broken wrist? Dad.?"
Fr. George spoke up. "Yeah, Joey. You have reason to be very proud of your Dad. Dale tamed a tiger all by himself."
"I didn't think that I twisted his arm that hard," Dale said.
"It doesn't take much if it's in the right place," Fr. George said.
Dale parked in front of the rectory. "It looks like a peaceful night, now," he said.
"This isn't over yet, by any means. There is still the Rev. Jimmy Bob mess that's going to come out - and I hope soon before anyone else is hurt. I wonder what Bret Senior will think after all that story is exposed?" Fr. George said.
"I have a feeling that he won't believe it, but will blame all of us 'fags' for however this whole thing turns out. You know the Pentecostals, they are right and everyone else is wrong just because we sit in a pew in a different church," Alan said.
"Thanks for everything you've done tonight, Alan," Dale said. "This whole thing may make our little group stronger and also help us attract new members.
"By the same token, some will shy away from us because we attracted some attention and they aren't comfortable in dealing with it," Fr. George said, opening his door to get out.
Everyone exchanged goodbyes and shook hands, thanking the others.
As they drove back to their condo, Craig asked, "What's the Rev. Jimmy Bob mess?"
"Not for sure, but I think Bret Junior had some information that might help us to shut him up, now and forever - at least here in Williamsport," Dale said.
The three of them made their way up the stairs to the condo when they arrived home. Joey took Mitsy down the stairs and waited while she took care of her needs.
Dale and Craig fell into an embrace, and then exchanged a passionate kiss. Craig pulled away. "Tamed a tiger all by yourself?" I like the sound of that. "Do you want to tame me?" he leered.
"You're already pretty tame, but I could remind you that you need to be subservient so you don't get your wrist broken," Dale told him with a giggle.
"Ooohh. does that mean you're going to hurt me?" Craig asked, going along with the joke.
"Nah. I'm a lover, not a fighter. I really feel bad about breaking his wrist, but he swung at me and I grabbed his wrist and twisted. Guess I don't know my own strength."
"Well, you've had plenty of practice, tossing hay bales around like they were popcorn," Craig told him.
"Bret Senior said he ought to call the police. I produced my cell phone and asked him, 'Would you like for the same officers you talked to earlier to come over here, or would you like some different ones. Your choice.' He didn't think that was funny."
Craig thought that was the funniest thing he had heard all evening. They were both laughing when Joey came in with Mitsy.
"Dads, what's so funny?"
Dale recounted the story he'd just told. All three of them laughed.
Eddie arrived back at their house with Bret Junior. Tom had ridden with Ray Evans, who offered to take him home.
Tom knew something was up when they came in the door. He was in the bedroom, putting some clothes away. He heard Eddie yell, "Tom, where are you?" Usually it was something like, "Hey sweetie, I'm home" or maybe, "Hey studly, I'm home."
"Just a minute he yelled back," then started for the kitchen. He met Eddie and Bret coming through the door into the dining room. "Bret Junior is going to stay with us tonight until some things are smoothed out at his house," Eddie said.
"You were gone longer than I expected. Is everything alright?" Tom asked.
"Well, he got belligerent about things and told Bret to leave. He tried to hit Dale, but Dale grabbed his wrist, twisted it and broke it. Then he really got vocal. We decided that Bret should stay here at least for tonight until he calms down and thinks things through."
"I'm really sorry, Bret. It's tough having a family that's narrow-minded and thinks everyone else is wrong. You're welcome to stay as long as you need to, and Eddie and I'll do whatever it takes to help you through this," Tom said, giving him a hug.
Bret had experienced so few hugs from a man in his life that he was overcome with emotion that strangers were willing to take him in and see to his needs.
"Thank you," he mumbled through his tears.
"Let me show you where to put your things, and then come on back to the kitchen after you freshen up. I'm sure you haven't eaten this evening and I know we haven't, so we'll figure out what we're going to have. Okay?" Eddie asked.
"Sure," Bret answered.
Eddie left Bret in the guest room that had it's own bathroom and walked with Tom to the kitchen.
"I made that casserole for tonight, so I'll fix a tossed salad and a vegetable to go with it. There's plenty of cake and ice cream for dessert," Tom said.
"That's fine. You might as well put the casserole in to bake now. Would you like a drink? I think I'm past being ready for one," Eddie asked.
"Well, I didn't have it as bad as you did, but yes, definitely a double," Tom answered.
Eddie set about fixing a bourbon and water for Tom and a scotch and soda for himself. Bret came back to the kitchen as Eddie was finishing. "Would you like a Coke or a soft drink of some kind?" Eddie asked him.
"Sure, a Coke would be fine."
Eddie and Bret sat at the counter while Tom prepared salad plates and prepared fresh green beans to steam. Eddie caught Tom's eye, then said, "We need to talk to Bret about us, okay?"
"If he's going to be staying with us, then yes."
"Bret, as you probably know from the things that happened this evening, the group that was meeting at the rectory is a group of gay men and women. It's primarily a social gathering, but we generally have a speaker or some sort of program each month. The program tonight was to have been Alan Zimmer, the attorney from Austin. He was going to talk to us about gay men and women adopting children. Some states make it easy and others all but forbid it. Texas is one of the states that allows it, but it's not a routine matter in the eyes of the court."
Eddie continued, "Tom and I are a gay couple, who love each other very much. We live quietly and don't flaunt the fact that we are homosexuals, and we have found that most people are tolerant of what we are as long as we don't make an issue of it. Some people agree with us that it's no one's business unless we intrude on them.
"Others, like Rev. Jimmy Bob Jones are on a crusade to cause us as many problems as they can, and you saw tonight that he and, unfortunately your father, were spying on the group, trying to figure out who was attending the meeting and was going to tell anyone who would listen what evil people we are and stir up resentment toward us."
Bret sat and listened quietly. He knew this was very important.
"You saw tonight what happened and you told several of us earlier what Rev. Jimmy Bob did to you when you were younger. The fact that he played with you and made you do the same to him and that you enjoyed it does not mean that you are gay. You just were exposed to something you shouldn't have been at an age when you were too young to understand what is going on. It's unfortunate that it happened to you, but we can't change that now except to help you understand that it wasn't your fault and that you are not being punished for it by being told that you will go to hell. That's not the way our God works; He loves us in spite of our sins.
"Now the other thing is that in the privacy of our own home, Tom and I are very demonstrative of our love for each other, so you may walk through a door and see us hugging and kissing each other. Anything beyond that we will keep in the privacy of our own bedroom, but you need to know this and not be embarrassed by it. Okay?" Eddie asked.
"Yes," Bret answered, unsure about his answer, but he knew this was important to them. He'd never seen his parents hug and kiss, so probably would be as shocked at that as he would be to see Tom and Eddie.
"Okay," Eddie said. "Anything you see here stays among us. You've seen what bigotry causes and we don't need this discussed at school by you or anyone else. I know you understand, but Tom and I need to stress this. The same goes for talking about any of the others who were at the meeting tonight. Their lives are private, just as ours are."
"I understand and you can trust me. You are brave to bring me home with you, but I don't think my Dad's going to cause you any problems. He's afraid of you and the other people for some reason and I'm not even sure that he knows why. So, thanks for what you are doing," Bret said.
"You are entirely welcome and anything that we can help you and your parents with, please don't hesitate to ask. We'll do our best for you."
Beth called Rev. Jimmy Bob.
"Rev. Jimmy Bob, this is Beth Jenkins. I'm not sure what has been going on tonight, but Bret Senior got into an argument with some of the men who were at the meeting and got his wrist broken. I want you to come over here and take him to the hospital because I need to get my children ready to go to bed and I can't take him."
"He was fine when he left me off at my house," Jimmy Bob told her.
"I'm sure he was, but when the men brought Bret Junior home, he told his own son to get out of the house. Then he tried to fight one of the men, Dale I think it was, and got his wrist broken."
"And you think it's my fault and want me to take him to the hospital?" he all but snarled.
"You are supposed to be his pastor and if it hadn't been for your half-baked idea to spy where you shouldn't have been, this wouldn't have happened."
"I don't know where you get the idea he's my responsibility. He could have said no and stayed home," Jimmy Bob said.
"Look, you know that he's loyal to you and would walk off a cliff if you told him to do it, so I suggest that you get yourself over here right away if you ever want to see either of us at church again." Beth was getting irate. Her husband was as loyal a member of that church as anyone else. She couldn't believe that Jimmy Bob was trying to ignore them.
"Oh, okay. I'll be right over. Just hold your horses until I get there," Jimmy Bob said.
He wasn't too pleased about this as he thought that Bret had attracted attention by pushing the brake pedal on purpose and then his faggoty son had tried to tip the police off about their presence. He probably called the police before he left home. Still Bret was loyal and didn't question his orders. He thought he might even get Bret to put a second mortgage on his home to help bail the church out of their financial situation. Certainly that was more than anyone else was willing to do.
He pulled on a pair of pants and a shirt to go pick up Bret. He wondered where his wife was. She sure seemed to be gone a lot lately, saying that she was meeting with some of the women from the church. He hadn't had dinner and a man his size needed three squares a day.
Fr. George arrived back at his house. Paul had cleaned up the dining room, washed dishes and put the liquor away. He was reading the latest copy of "The American Organist" in their second parlor that they used as a lounge to watch TV and read. George went over to him to lean down for a kiss.
"You were gone longer than I thought you would be. Did everything go okay?" Paul asked.
"That depends on the definition of okay and from whose viewpoint," he said. We found out that Bret Senior gets irate and beats his wife and oldest son. She had bruises on both arms. I don't know about Bret Junior, but he indicated that he's been a victim, also, but the younger kids aren't.
"Bret Senior got quite vocal and threw his son out of the house. Eddie took him home to stay with him and Tom. He tried to hit Dale, but Dale grabbed him by the wrist and broke it. We left after getting his son some clothes and other things to take with him. I don't think he would have allowed us to take him to the hospital anyway.
"I really feel sorry for his wife, because she is the real loser here and the other kids saw the whole thing, so that can't be good for them. The man needs a course in anger management and the entire family needs to meet with a counselor, but I doubt if any of them would admit that they have a problem and need help."
"That's always the case, isn't it?" said Paul.
"Yes, I just wonder how much play this will get in the paper, if any. That fellow who was here taking pictures is a free-lance reporter and sells his stuff wherever he can," George said.
"Oh great, now we're going to be on the cover of 'The National Enquirer' with a half-baked story to go with it," laughed Paul.
"I can't imagine, but we've had a lot of strange things happen this evening, so I guess we shouldn't be too surprised if that isn't next," he laughed.
"Yeah," Paul laughed, too. Then he turned serious. "What was the 'behind closed door meeting' earlier?"
"You know I can't violate the sanctity of the confessional," George told him.
"I bet I can worm it out of you in the throes of passion," Paul giggled.
"You'd do it, too, wouldn't you?" he questioned, smiling.
"If it's juicy gossip, it's worth a try." He enjoyed teasing George.
"Well, it seems that the Rev. Jimmy Bob Jones isn't as pure as everyone thinks he is. He has his very own personal dirty little secret."
"Oh?" Paul said, looking questioningly at George.
"From what Bret told us, he likes young boys about 10-years old to the first signs of puberty. Bret himself was a victim, and then when he could ejaculate, Jimmy Bob dropped him like a hot potato and told him that if he ever told anyone, he would go to hell. The kid has been carrying this guilt for the last three or so years, not knowing why he got dropped as a little playmate. He finally figured out what it was all about and willingly told us the story."
"Isn't that the way it always is with these fundamentalist preachers? That church certainly believes in hell. I wonder if they ever talk about heaven there?" Paul asked.
"I don't think so. They don't know about God's love and salvation is something that's dangled in front of them, like a carrot on a stick in front of a horse. Jimmy Bob seemingly can get them to do anything by threatening them with going to hell and extorting some money," George said.
"That's sad, but I hope people like him have a special place set aside in hell for them so they can all enjoy it together," Paul added.
"Hey, who do I have to fuck around here to get a well- deserved drink and a bite to eat?" George asked, giving Paul a tonsil swab, which was eagerly returned.
"I take that back. Another one like that and I'll forget about having a drink or a bite to eat," George said, giving Paul another kiss.
"If you'll fix drinks, I'll put some stuff together. I'm hungry also. The group ate all the snacks and really put the liquor away tonight, too," Paul said.
"It really was a traumatic evening for all of us. Who would have thought that Jimmy Bob would actually have the balls to come here and do what he did?" George said.
"Narrow-minded bigots," muttered Paul.
George fixed each of them a double scotch on the rocks, then stood in the kitchen so he and Paul could talk about more pleasant things.
Alan and Jeffery talked about the evening on their way back to Austin.
"According to Tom and Eddie, they have counseled three students who have been abused by the Rev. Jimmy Bob Jones, but the families wouldn't press charges. Bret Jenkins, Junior is another victim from three years ago. There have to be more, but how do we get them to come forward?" Alan asked his partner.
"I would guess that right now our best source might be Bret Junior himself. He was wondering if his next younger brother might have been involved, too. And even if he wasn't, he might know of some other boys. You know that even if Jimmy Bob did threaten them, sometimes they still talk about things like this with other boys and it doesn't take much to get them to come forth and give information to someone they can trust," Jeffery told him.
"We need to move carefully on this, but it needs a priority put on it before someone gets badly hurt because of his narrow- minded beliefs," Alan agreed.
"You are right. Let's talk to a couple of our staff in the morning and see what they suggest," Jeffery said.
Jimmy Bob was at the Jenkins house within ten minutes and soon had Bret in his car and on the way to the hospital. His wrist had started to swell and was about double in size. The skin was stretched so tightly it felt like it was going to break.
Beth was glad they were gone as the children were all riled up, upset because some strange men had come into their house, taken their brother away, had an argument with their father who had suffered a broken wrist because of it. They didn't know for sure what was going on, but sensed that their father had also done something he wasn't supposed to. They were thankful he hadn't hurt their mother as he sometimes did when he got mad.
Jimmy Bob parked his new royal maroon Cadillac sedan just beyond the emergency entrance. It was really a no parking zone, but he had a clergy tag on his car. Besides, walking was hard for him because of his excess weight.
He went around to the passenger seat to help Bret out, as it was his right wrist that was broken. They walked into the emergency room and went to the desk.
There was a male nurse working the triage desk. Jimmy Bob thought he looked like a fag, but didn't say anything, only because he was tired and Bret needed help.
"May I help you gentlemen? he asked. His nametag said Gary Brooks, RN.
"I think my wrist is broken," Bret said, supporting it in his left hand.
"Let me check." He stood up. "Did you put any ice on it to keep the swelling down?"
"No, I didn't think about it," Bret said.
"Were you in a fight?" the nurse asked, thinking that Bret didn't look like the type of guy who would be involved in a physical altercation.
"Yeah, kinda. I got mad and took a swing at him. He grabbed my wrist and twisted it. that's all it took.
"Did you make a police report?" he was asked.
"No."
"Do you want to? I'll be glad to call the beat officer who works this area."
Bret and Jimmy Bob really didn't want to see the police again that evening, although this time it was really someone who had wronged Bret.
"No. I don't think so."
"I need some questions answered so I can fill out my folder here, you know; Name, address, age, sex, insurance - all the good juicy stuff about you."
"Ok," Bret replied. He was starting to feel a lot of pain.
Gary took him through the form, which was short, because he had been a patient at the hospital before and most of it was still in the computer. All he had to do was get current information about the broken wrist.
"If you'll follow me into Exam Room 3, I'll notify the doctor you're here. He'll want to x-ray it before he does anything because the location of the break will determine the type of cast. I'll get you an icepack to put on it while you wait."
Gary led them to the Exam Room, then excused himself.
Bret looked at Jimmy Bob, who was looking at the nurse. "Don't even say it."
"What do you mean?" Jimmy Bob asked.
"You were going to make some derogatory remark about him being a fag."
"He probably is one, if he's a nurse."
"Maybe so, but I'm in pain and he can help me and if you get smart with him, he'll ignore me."
"Okay, okay. Just don't get all riled up about it. I just didn't think those damn faggots would turn on us and get nasty. They've even got the police on their side. I told you that they were taking over. schoolteachers, cowboys, priests, policemen, building contractors, the people that work in filling stations and convenience stores, bankers, nurses, restaurant owners. they're everywhere," Jimmy Bob said, with a look of absolute disgust on his face.
"Well just don't get this one - if he actually is a fag - all upset because I'm starting to feel a lot of pain," Bret told him.
Nurse Gary Brooks was in the next cubicle ready to fill a bag with ice. He overheard the conversation and realized that the obese man was the Reverend Jimmy Bob Jones, the pseudo Fred Phelps of Texas.
Jimmy Bob wasn't quite as innovative in his protests as the self-styled Reverend Fred Phelps of Topeka, Kansas. Jimmy Bob hadn't gone to picket funerals of AIDS victims, or stage a protest march in front of offices of those who openly supported legislation that would benefit gay partnerships. He wasn't sure he could actually get his little congregation to do that, but he did have an autographed picture of Fred Phelps on the wall of his office.
'This might be fun,' Nurse Gary thought. He wondered if the two had tangled with the wrong person and what had happened that Bret Jenkins had a broken wrist. He was torn between helping Bret get more or less comfortable and calling his contact at the Williamsport Police Department to see if she knew anything. His profession called him. He hurriedly filled an ice bag and returned to Exam Cubicle 3.
"Here's some ice for your wrist. Let me wrap this around and secure it so you don't have to hold it." Nurse Gary Brooks then encased the wrist and secured the bag with surgical tape that would have to be cut off as it adhered to whatever it was attached to. If his wrist got too cold, he couldn't remove the bag by himself. 'Isn't that too bad?' Gary thought.
"The doctor should be here in a few minutes. I'm going to advise the x-ray room to be ready when he is." He left the cubicle and went back to the triage desk.
After thinking about it for a minute, he picked up the phone and punched in the number that his friend, Louise Pitowsky would answer.
"Williamsport Police Department, this is Louise. How may I help you?" she almost sang.
"Hi Lou. This is Gary."
"Hi love, did you call to propose to me again?" she laughed.
"Yeah, just can't get enough of you turning me down." This was a long running joke between them. They regularly proposed to each other at least once a week. The goal was to catch the other off guard or ask in front of someone during a serious conversation.
"What'd you need?"
"Wondering if you had anything tonight on a Rev. Jimmy Bob Jones or a sidekick by the name of Bret Jenkins, Senior.
"Funny you should ask. Are they there?" she asked.
"Yeah, came in just about 15 minutes ago. Jenkins has a broken right wrist. Says he started to swing at somebody, they grabbed his wrist and broke it."
"Well," she dropped her voice as if she was afraid someone was going to overhear her end of the conversation. "It seems that these two men parked just down the street from the St. James rectory and were using binoculars to spy on those going to a meeting of the Dignity/Integrity group. According to the report, Bret Jenkins was driving his family minivan and was bumping the brake pedal, causing the lights to flash. Lt. Kolb parked behind his van, checked to see what was going on, and even though she was off duty, called in to have two patrol cars sent to block their leaving. The report says that they planned to publicize the names of, and I quote, "the fags that were attending the meeting."
"Ain't that interestin'," said Gary. "Apparently he had another altercation with one of them, tried to hit him, the guy grabbed his wrist and broke it."
"Give me his name and I'll nominate him for the Citizen of the Month Award," Louise laughed.
"Don't you wish the world worked that way?" Gary said.
"You know it," she answered. "Keep your ear to the ground and let me know if there are any further developments on this," Louise said.
"Ya got it, babe. Now will you marry me?" He hung up, laughing.
The doctor, Matt Lucas, arrived in the Emergency Room area. He'd been treating a young boy with asthma and things seemed to be under control. A broken wrist wasn't going to get any worse, while a kid having an asthma attack could turn sour pretty quickly.
He picked up the chart and entered Exam Cubicle 3. "Gentlemen," he said as he pulled the curtain closed. "I'm Dr. Lucas and I guess you must be Bret Jenkins, Senior and you have a broken wrist?" he said. Then, trying to make a joke, he added, "Was this bully bigger than you?"
"Yeah. and stronger, too," was the weak response. Bret didn't feel like joking by this time. He was in pain. a lot of pain.
Matt turned to Jimmy Bob. "Matt Lucas. And you are.?"
"Jimmy Bob. Rev. Jimmy Bob Jones."
"Did you see this happen?" Matt asked.
"No!" he replied emphatically.
"Did you make a police report?"
"No!" Bret was equally emphatic.
Matt decided to drop it. He didn't know what had happened, didn't want to but had given them the chance to report it. That was all state law required him to do.
He snipped the tape holding the ice bag in place and felt around his lower arm and thought it was a broken ulna. The x-ray would show if it was a clean break.
"Well, let's take you down the hall to x-ray and see what this looks like." Jimmy Bob stayed in the Exam Cubicle.
The technician was waiting for them. While Dr. Lucas placed Bret's lower arm and wrist in place for the picture, the technician draped the lead shield over his shoulder and upper arm. He took one exposure, then Dr. Matt rotated his arm for a second picture.
"Thanks," Dr. Matt told the technician. "We'll be in Exam Cubicle 3 when you have the pictures ready."
He led Bret back down to the cubicle, and then put the ice bag back on his arm and wrist. "He'll have the x-rays in about 10 minutes, but I think it's a broken ulna, the bone on the outside of your forearm, and not the wrist. They usually mend faster than the other breaks in the arm because that bone is held in place by the other bone, the radius and the rotator cuff and muscles. I think after we confirm this, we can make sure it's in the correct place, then give you a lightweight cast. That's a lot better than the old heavy plaster casts.
"How long will I have to wear that?" Bret asked.
"Probably about 6 weeks, depending on how fast the bone knits. "Are you right handed?"
"Yes."
"What business are you in?"
"I'm an accountant. I need to be able to write, use a computer and 10-key."
"I see. Well, ideally we would like to immobilize the lower arm and make the cast go above your elbow. That keeps your elbow stiff and limits the usage of the hand."
"That's not good," Bret said.
"I know. I think - and this is after we look at the x-ray - we'll put the cast on just the lower arm, but I want to look at it about Thursday to make sure everything is staying in place. If it isn't, then we have no choice except to use a cast that will limit your movements."
The x-ray technician brought the two exposures and Dr. Matt put them on the viewing rack. He took his pencil and pointed out the break, about four inches above the wrist. "It's a clean break, no broken chips from the bone. Let's take you to the cast room and see what we can do for you, okay? You're lucky this is going to be a simple one."
Dr. Matt led Bret down the hall and around a corner into a small room. He put the pictures on the viewing rack and pointed out the break on both exposures. He addressed the intern who was going to fit the cast. "I want his right lower arm wrapped with an elastic bandage, then put in a plastic cast from below his elbow to just above the rotator cuff. He'll be back here on Thursday after the swelling goes down and we'll replace the cast with one that he'll wear until the ulna is knit."
"Dr. Lawrence will take care of this, but he'll call me before you leave so I can look at it. I'll tell your pal that he can wait in the waiting room for you. Okay?" he asked Bret.
"Yeah, thanks Doc. I hope this doesn't keep me from working."
"It shouldn't. You'll be plenty uncomfortable for a few days until that swelling goes down. Just don't strain your arm or you'll damage the bone, then we'll have to use a different cast. I'm going to write a prescription for pain medication, enough to get you to Thursday, then we'll see if we can just drop that one to something that's over-the-counter."
"There isn't any place to get a prescription filled this time of the night on a Sunday," Bret said.
"Oh, there is, too. You can go to the hospital pharmacy. It's down the hall on the other side of the emergency room entrance. They're open 24 hours a day."
"Okay," Bret agreed.
"Doc Lawrence will fix you up, then I'll come check his work and you can go home."
About a half hour later they were in Jimmy Bob's car, going to Bret's house. "Thanks for taking me to the hospital. Beth couldn't do it because of getting the kids ready for bed and for school tomorrow."
"What about Bret Junior, is he going to be okay?" asked Jimmy Bob.
"I lost my temper and told him to get out. Now the fags have him. I think he was going with that Eddie. the guy that's the coach. Oh Geez, I let the fags have my son. No telling what they'll to do him. I hope they don't hurt him; he sure doesn't deserve to be hurt, no matter how mad at him I am."
"If you want me to help you get him back home tomorrow, let me know."
Jimmy Bob parked on the driveway and went around to open the passenger door for Bret. After he thanked Jimmy Bob, he was told, "We're not gonna let them fags win."
In Bret's mind, they already had. They had his son.
(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, who has taken time to help me catch obvious errors.