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 38: Houston was a lot of Work
The first stop Dale and Joey made was at the administrative area. Jay McCormick had made arrangements for Joey to be withdrawn from school. The paperwork was complete and both Joey and Dale signed on the appropriate lines, authorizing the school to forward his transcript to Davy Crockett High School in Williamsport. He turned in his homework and was provided with envelopes to place the various assignments so they could go to the right teacher. Joey was told he could go visit with any of his teachers during the lunch hour, but that he couldn't disturb them if a class was in progress.
One of the office aides called the coaches' office in the gym, telling the coach they would be down shortly for Joey to get his gym clothes.
Dale left Joey at the school and was back home in ten minutes time.
The only items in Joey's gym basket were his gym shorts, jockstrap, t-shirt, socks and shoes and he stuffed them in his backpack. The next stop was his locker, where he worked the combination. All that was in there were two textbooks and a couple of spiral notebooks. He had four textbooks in his bag, so all of the books could be turned in to the office for a refund of his book deposit.
By the time he was through in the office it was well after 11:30. The office aide checked the lunch schedules of three teachers Joey wanted to tell goodbye. Two of them were on lunch break and he hoped they would be in their classroom. He was given permission to be in the halls and given a pass in case anyone questioned him.
The first teacher, Vincent Marshall, taught history, one of Joey's favorite subjects. He was eating lunch at his desk and was glad to see Joey.
"Joey, I'm sorry about your father. Are you back to go to school?" he asked.
"No, I'm moving to Williamsport, west of Austin to live with my half-brother and his partner," he said, watching Mr. Marshall's eyes for signs of recognition as to what he had said.
He wasn't disappointed.
"I'll miss having you in class. You've been a good student and I always appreciated your participation in our group discussions. Do you have your assignments to hand in?"
"I left them in the office. My history assignment was included with the others," Joey told him.
"It will be in my mailbox later today. I'll get your final grade turned in, but you've always been an 'A' student in my class, so I have no reason to doubt you've turned in any work that isn't your usual high standard."
"Thanks, Mr. Marshall. I've really enjoyed having you as a teacher and hope my history teacher in Williamsport will be as good as you are," Joey said.
"Well, thank you, Joey. I appreciate that. Let's see. Williamsport. There's been a big scandal there the last few days. It made the TV and newspapers here." He was wondering what Joey might know about it.
"Yeah. The guy is a real bigot and ignorant to boot." Joey decided to 'drop a pin' to see what kind of response he got. "Did you hear anything about his side-kick getting his arm broken?"
"Oh, yes," Vince replied.
"Well, it turns out that his son, who is a new friend of mine, was one of the minister's victims, several years ago.
"You don't say," Vince said. "Nothing like having firsthand information, is there?"
"Yeah, it's kind of cool."
"Joey, a friend of mine used to teach with me at another school. He moved to Williamsport about over two years ago. He teaches history, too, but I think in lower middle school. His name is Tom Bryant.
"Yeah, I know him. He's a friend of my two Dads and he and his friend, Eddie, go to the church where I'm going to be singing in the choir. They're neat guys.
Bingo. Target acquired. Missile fired.
"It's a small world, isn't it Joey? I've known both of them for several years."
"I've met a lot of nice people there. The priest and organist/choirmaster at my church gave a little party for me to meet some of the kids I'll be going to school with. It's a really nice school, too."
"Well, tell Tom and Eddie 'hi' from Vince Marshall. They will probably be surprised that you were in my class."
"I bet they will, too. Hey, Mr. Marshall, I've got to be going. Here's a card with my new address and telephone number. Maybe you can keep in contact with me. I'd like to hear from you."
"That's great, Joey. Here's my address and phone number." He gave Joey a card that was in his desk drawer. "If you hear any really good information about the story, send it to me."
Vincent thought that Joey was a real stud for only being 14 years old. He looked much older than his age. He held his hand out for Joey to shake. "You take care, Joey. Good luck to you in Williamsport."
"Thanks. See you," Joey said as he went out the door.
Vince thought he'd have to call Tom and Eddie and find out what they could tell him about the scandal in Williamsport and about Joey and his two Dads.
Joey's next stop was Mrs. Garland's room. Beverly Garland was his English Literature teacher, but she wasn't at her desk. Joey left one of his cards on her desk where she couldn't miss it. He wrote in his neat script. "Sorry I missed you."
He looked at his watch. It was time for his friends to go to the cafeteria for lunch, so he made his way through the now crowded hall. As he got to the door, two of his friends were coming down the hallway from the other direction. Josh Herrman and Stuart Browning were two of Joey's oldest friends. They had been in school together since kindergarten and had always been pretty thick with each other.
After exchanging hand slaps and claps on the back, Joey said, "Guys. it's awesome to see you again."
"Are you back in school?" Josh asked. "I'm sorry about your Dad," he told Joey.
"I am, too," Stuart said. "Man, we've missed you. Our gang just isn't the same without you leading it."
"No, I'm just in Houston today and tomorrow. I'm moving to Williamsport to live with my half-brother, Dale Richards, and his partner. We're here to get my Dad's house ready to sell and take the things I want to keep with us.
"What do you mean 'partner'?" Josh asked.
"Just what I said," Joey replied. "His best friend," he added.
"Really? You mean as in. they're queer for each other?"
"Yes, but the politically correct term is 'gay' and you know that as well as I do," Joey told them.
"No way. You're actually going to live with them? Aren't you afraid of what they might do to you?" Stuart asked.
"Actually, it's going to be kind of neat. I'm going to have two Dads now and they are both just super to me. You'll like them. My half brother, Dale, is manager of a huge ranch and Craig is an architect and partner in his company. I don't know how I was so lucky, because if they hadn't agreed to take me, I would have ended up in Foster care and you've heard what that is like."
"Bummer," Josh said.
"Hey, you guys remember what my Dad looked like, don't you?" Joey asked them.
"Yeah," they replied almost in unison.
"Well, Dale looks just like him, except 20 years younger. He's only 10 years older than I am, so I guess I'm getting both an older brother and two new Dads. It's going to be great living in Williamsport and maybe you guys can come visit during a school break or next summer."
By this time they were at the serving line and each picked items they wanted to eat, paid for them and made their way to the usual table they occupied. Three of the other guys in their Boy Scout Troop were already at the table and two more were there shortly afterward.
Joey handed out several cards to each, telling them to pass the extras on to friends he wouldn't get to see today.
The eight boys had a great time visiting with each other, exchanging addresses and telephone numbers and catching up on the things they had been doing the past couple of weeks.
Two of the boys said that they appreciated the invitation to visit Joey in Williamsport and hoped to be able to do so next summer.
"I'll bet that my Dad can let you help on the ranch if you want to. He's already said that he'd hire me as summer help next year."
All of the boys had a hard time envisioning a working ranch with 4,500 horses and 25,000 head of cattle.
"And your brother runs it?" Jeremy Young asked.
"He's the general manager. There are quite a few men working there, but I'm not sure how many," Joey told them.
The boys were impressed with Joey's story about milking the cow and gathering eggs.
"I guess I never thought about eggs and milk like that," Jim Clinton said. "I'm just used to seeing them in the refrigerator in the grocery store and at home."
They were still visiting when the second bell rang, making the other seven boys late for their first class after lunch.
Some of the boys shook hands, some exchanged high fives and a couple hugged Joey as they left the cafeteria. They all promised to stay in contact with each other.
The other teacher that Joey wanted to see was Milton Morgan, his science teacher. He was at his desk working on lesson plans.
Joey walked through the door and stood a couple of feet from his desk, waiting to be recognized.
Finally he looked up.
"Joey, it's good to see you. I'm sorry about your father. That's a tough break for a young man your age. Just when you need him the most."
"Thanks, Mr. Morgan. I appreciate that."
"Are you ready to come back to class?" he asked.
"No, actually I'm here today to turn in my assignments, clean out my locker and tell my friends goodbye. I'm moving to Williamsport to live with my half-brother. He's agreed to watch after me," Joey told him.
"Well, I'm sorry to lose you as a student. You always sat on the front row and kept me honest," he laughed.
"You are a good teacher, I just hope my science teacher there takes the time to explain things to the class as you do."
"Why, thank you," he said. "Did you turn your assignments in at the office?"
"Yes sir," Joey answered.
"Then they'll be in my mailbox later this afternoon. I'm sure that your work on them is up to your usual good standards so it won't be any problem to give you at least a 'C'," he laughed.
Poor Joey didn't realize he was being teased, as Mr. Morgan never gave much indication of having a sense of humor.
Milton Morgan looked at Joey and could tell he didn't think it was a joke.
"I'm sorry, Joey. I shouldn't have said that. Of course you're an 'A' student and I'm sure you'll earn an 'A' on those assignments."
"Thanks, Mr. Morgan." Joey reached into his shirt pocket and extracted a card. "Here's my new address and telephone number. I hope maybe I'll hear from you again sometime," he said.
"Of course you will, Joey. There aren't too many students who ever want to hear from a teacher again after they pass his class. But, I'll be glad to write you a note now and then to ask how you are getting along and find out what you are doing."
He wrote his name, address and telephone number on a half- sheet of paper and gave it to Joey. "You write to me, too, okay?"
Joey beamed. "Sure. I think I'm going to love living there and I've already met some kids my age, so I'm looking forward to moving."
"I'm sure you will do well, Joey. If you are ever back in Houston, come visit the school," Milton said.
"Thanks. I just might do that. Some of my friends from here want to come to Williamsport next summer and maybe work on the ranch that my brother manages, so maybe I can come visit them, too."
"Your brother manages a ranch?"
"Yeah, the Bar-W. Have you ever heard of it? It's a huge place. They've got about 25,000 head of cattle and 4,500 horses."
"I know of it by its reputation. The owner is well known for helping develop some really strong bloodlines in that herd of cattle. He's worked pretty closely with the faculty and students at Texas A&M and they've been written up in some of the scientific publications I take."
Joey was about to bust with pride.
"Yeah, Mr. Williamson, Marty, took me on a tour of the state capitol building last week. Some of the wood and stone used in the building came from the Bar-W Ranch. His great-grandfather was a state senator right after the building was built.
"Now that I have a real connection, I may have to come over there and visit the ranch and see what it's all about. Will you be my tour guide?"
Joey laughed. "I might get to go on the tour with you, but I bet my brother would be a swell tour guide, or even Marty, Mr. Williamson. I'll tell them that you are interested. That would be so neat if you could come to Williamsport."
"Now that I know somebody there, I just might do that."
"Awesome," Joey said. "I have to call my brother to come pick me up. We have a lot of work to do today and tomorrow to get my Dad's house ready to sell and move some of my things to my brother's house. It's been really great to talk to you, Mr. Morgan."
"You too, Joey. I've enjoyed talking to you, too," he said offering his hand to shake.
"Bye," Joey said as he went out the door.
"Goodbye, Joey. and good luck!"
Craig picked Joey up in front of the school as Dale was still talking with the realtor.
"How did it go?" he asked.
"Great. Guess what?" Joey asked.
"I wouldn't even attempt to guess what," Craig laughed.
"Mr. Marshall, my history teacher, knows Tom and Eddie. He said that he and Tom used to teach at the same school."
"Now, that's interesting," Craig said. "Do you think he might be gay?"
"I've always wondered. He used to stare at me a lot when I sat on the front row, but I don't know."
"Hey stud, if you were sitting in front of me, I'd stare, too. You know how much I love your brother and I like to just look at him and think how lucky I am, so you'd get the same treatment from me."
Joey laughed. "Yeah, we do kinda look alike, don't we?"
"What else happened that was interesting? Did you get to see all of your friends?"
"Most of them. The ones that are in Boy Scouts, anyway. We were the thickest buds. Some of them would like to come to Williamsport next summer and see the ranch. I invited them. I hope that's okay, but some of them might not be able to come over anyway," Joey said. He was excited.
"Sure, it's okay. We'll find room to stack them up somewhere."
"You and Dad Dale are the greatest," Joey said, giving Craig five.
"So are you, Joey."
"And. I went to see my science teacher, Mr. Morgan. He knows all about the Bar-W and cattle they have. He was surprised that Dale was the general manager and wanted to know if I'd give him a tour if he came to visit. I told him that probably Dale or Marty would have to do that."
"I just bet that with a little more knowledge of the place, you could give a fine tour," Craig said.
That statement made Joey proud.
The realtor and Dale were just finishing when they arrived at the house. Dale had been thankful to have Frank and Craig's help in talking to him, since Craig was involved in real estate from an architectural point of view and Frank was the office manager for a large law firm in Dallas. Both knew the questions to ask and Frank had insisted that the exclusive contract be shortened from 90 days to 60 days and that the house not be put on multi-list.
This realty firm didn't like to do multi-list contracts anyway because too many people could show the house without knowing anything about what they were trying to sell. His firm liked to be able to work with their customers to find the ideal home and had enough listings; they could be selective in the property they listed. Harlan Holman had balked at the shortened exclusive period. Frank told him that it had been his experience that if you gave a realtor 90 days to sell something, they didn't get busy until day 75. He was upset at the accusation, but agreed. He knew that he had a buyer for the property and wanted the listing.
Dale had signed the contract, agreeing that the asking price should be $290,700. Harlan thought he could get a contract for that amount as other properties in the surrounding area had sold in that price range.
They shook hands and Dale walked Harlan to his car. Dale took the opportunity to ask his opinion of the estate sale people, telling him whom he had appointments to talk to. Harlan told him that Baker's Estate Sales would do a competent job, but that he really would be better off with Gable and Clark, who Dale was to see at 4:30.
He thanked Harlan again.
Dale greeted Joey and Craig. "How did your trip to school go?" he questioned.
"Great," Joey said.
"I want to hear all about it, but I think you need to go find your grandmother, because she's found a lot of items she thought you might like to keep. She thinks that they've been buried in the closets for so long that you've forgotten about them," Dale said.
Joey went off in search of Doris. The house was beginning to look as if a tornado had hit it. The closets might be cleaned out, but the floors, tables and every other available space had suffered for it.
Dale, Frank and Craig had hauled the items to a corner of the living room that they knew for sure Joey wanted to keep. Frank had gotten most of the models packed, the boxes sealed and labeled. The stack of boxes to be moved to Williamsport kept growing. They would have four vehicles; two sedans, a pickup and Dale's Blazer. There would be five people and a dog. If necessary, they could rent a small trailer to tow behind the Blazer or pickup. Regardless, they would be able to move everything.
Dale told Craig. "I hope we don't have to rent storage for the things we are keeping."
"If we do, so what? It's stuff that either Joey or we can use. And, maybe that will spur us onward to doing something about a place that's more in line with our needs as a family," Craig said.
"I know. We need to talk about this. Joe suggested that we sell this house and build something for us to live in. Then Arlen Fischer suggested that we invest the money and take only what was needed for Joey's annual expenses. So, I feel guilty about taking Joey's money. He might only be with us another four years, then he's off to college," Dale said.
"Hon, I think Joey has plenty of money now. Certainly we don't have to use everything from the sale of this place, but I heard Joe say that he was putting the house in your name and you could sell it and do whatever you wanted with the money."
"I know, I just don't want to be accused of mishandling Joey's money."
"The two of us providing Joey a nice home isn't 'mishandling' Joey's money. I don't want to be accused of doing that either, but I think the three of us can split the costs. And. it isn't as if we couldn't buy Joey's share when he finished college," Craig replied.
"You always manage to put things into the simplest terms," Dale told Craig, while they were standing in the garage.
"You and Joey have more money than I do, although I can certainly sell the condo for my share of whatever we might decide to do," Craig told him. "Of course, since you own half the condo, I'd have to get permission from you to do that, and that comes at a hard price," he added, giving Dale's cock a squeeze.
"I don't own half the condo," Dale said.
"Oh, but you do. The paperwork is being drawn up to add your name to the deed," Craig said, giving Dale another kiss. "After all, if something happened to Joey's other Dad, I don't want the two of you to be left with no place to live, although my parents understand that everything I have is to go to you, but that's other legal work in process."
"I think that I need to have a will, also. My life is getting too complicated," Dale said.
"This is a good time to do so. You've seen how much easier everything is with Joe's passing. Can you imagine what a mess it would be if he hadn't planned ahead?" Craig asked.
"I think I want to kiss whoever his financial advisor is," Dale said to Craig.
"Hey bud, just be careful who you go kissing. Seems to me I have first dibs on that," Craig teased.
Dale gave Craig a kiss, sighing, "Yes, I always thought I'd be a poor guy, working like my grandfather to barely make ends meet. Look at me. I'm the luckiest guy in the world. I've got you, Joey and your parents and a lot of friends," Dale said, with a great deal of pride in his eyes.
"I don't know which of us is the luckiest, but I know that I'm in the ballpark," Craig agreed.
Frank happened to be looking out the door into the garage. It was obvious that his son and Dale were in love with each other. It just seemed strange to see two strong, virile men holding onto each other and exchanging kisses.
He was a little concerned about Joey, knowing that they would never do anything to him that was wrong, but wondered if they were really good role models.
What Frank didn't realize was that the younger people, for the most part, didn't have the sexual hang-ups of earlier generations.
Riley Boyd called Bret Senior at work on Wednesday about mid- day.
"Bret, this is Riley Boyd."
"Hello Riley. I was wondering if you might be calling me."
"Damn right I am. We're going to have a meeting of what few people that are left of the Victory Temple membership tonight at 7:30. I don't know if I have any right to call the meeting, but others have urged me to do so and we want some answers. Can you be there tonight and have the financial records up-to-date so we can determine if there is any reason to try to keep going - maybe with the leadership of another pastor - not Jimmy Bob Jones.
"Riley, I'll be there. I want some answers myself. And, the records are pretty much up-to-date, except for the deposit for last Sunday. I don't' have the figures or the deposit slip, yet."
"That's something else we wanted to talk to you about. What is the procedure for depositing the Sunday collection?" Riley asked.
"The church secretary makes up a deposit slip for the checks, stamps them and takes them to the bank on Monday morning," Bret said.
"What about the cash?" Riley asked.
Bret's senses went into overdrive. Something wasn't right and he hadn't been smart enough to figure it out.
"Uhmm, unnn. there isn't any cash," he said before he thought his answer through.
"What do you mean?" Riley had raised his voice.
He was careful with his answer, but didn't lie. "I have all of the deposit slips for the last three years and I don't recall any cash being deposited. We always make our gift by check."
Riley was getting a little riled up. The last two weeks, Lois and I have made our usual gift by check, but we've also put in a $50 bill each Sunday for the 'God's Plan' offering, as Jimmy Bob calls it. I know that the people who were sitting to our right last Sunday put in two $20 bills, and I know a lot of others put cash in the collection plate, too."
Brett was stunned, but he recalled seeing others put cash in the collection plates.
"What's the procedure for the Sunday offering?" Riley demanded.
"The ushers put the money into a green bag and that's put in the church safe. On Monday morning, the secretary makes up a deposit slip and takes the checks to the bank. I get the receipt and the duplicate deposit slip later in the week," Bret told him.
"Who has access to the safe?" Riley asked.
"Jimmy Bob and the church secretary are all, as far as I know," Bret replied.
"I think we need to talk to the secretary and find out if any cash is ever in the bag when she takes it out of the safe on Monday morning, or whenever she does that," Riley told Bret.
"Do you think?." Bret asked.
Well, I'll tell you what," Riley said. "Jimmy Bob is in jail and probably won't get out very soon. Marlene has a boyfriend and we know he spent the night at her house two nights this week, and I have a suspicion that she may stay at his house, too.
"There should be keys to the house in the church office, or Jimmy Bob's office. I say that we get the keys and do a little exploring," Riley said.
Brett didn't have a good feeling about this, but he was the church treasurer. He couldn't help it if there was someone between the collection plate and himself. Or two 'someone's'.
"Okay, when do you want to do this?" Bret asked.
"How about you meet Lois and me at the church in about 10 minutes, would that be okay?"
Bret thought he was going to be sick to his stomach, but agreed.
Telling Amanda that he had some church business to attend to, Bret left his office. He was hoping to get rid of the elastic bandage and plastic cast tomorrow. The swelling seemed to have gone down and his arm really wasn't as sore as the day before.
Fifteen minutes later Bret parked in the church lot. Riley and Lois were waiting at the door. A locksmith was with them for the purpose of changing outside locks and to admit them to locked doors and desks inside the building if they couldn't find keys.
The first discovery was that the combination to the safe was written inside the receptionist/secretaries desk drawer. No secrets there.
Jimmy Bob's desk was unlocked and they found another half dozen pictures he'd missed. In going through the drawers, they found almost $56,000 in cash that was stuffed into file folders and he was actually brazen enough to put dates on each file folder. The earliest dates were almost a year old, although some had been crossed out and newer dates written in.
They put that money in a bank bag and put it in the safe after the locksmith changed the combination, giving the new numbers to Bret and Riley.
That task completed, they found keys to the parsonage on a board in a locked closet. They took the locksmith with them.
The first discovery was the liquor on the kitchen cabinet. Lois later discovered two unopened bottles of cheap gin (although she didn't know it to be a cheap brand).
It appeared that Marlene had left in a hurry, however it appeared that most of her clothes and personal items were all that were missing. They were surprised that she slept in the "master bedroom" while Jimmy Bob must sleep in the second bedroom.
They started going through drawers in Jimmy Bob's bedroom. More pictures, this time from magazines called "Twinks". The pictures made Bret sick to his stomach and he had to make a rush trip to the bathroom. They found several shoe boxes in his closet with more pictures and cash stuffed in them, too.
Three hours later, they had found an additional $41,000 in Jimmy Bob's room and $17,600 in Marlene's room. They wondered how much she had gotten away with. They debated about getting a search warrant for Scott McKown's apartment, but decided not to at that time.
They did find bank statements in both bedrooms. There was not much money in those accounts.
Almost a hundred fifteen thousand dollars in cash was a pretty good haul for a few hours work. Although it didn't get them out of the woods, it did improve the financial status of the Victory Temple by a lot.
Bret was reminded of what Morris Johnsmore had said about the preacher making off with the church funds and the congregation was left holding the bag. That was certainly true here. They would need to get a crew into the house to clean it out and have a big garage sale.
The locksmith changed all the outside locks of the parsonage.
Jimmy Bob Jones actually got down on his knees and prayed an honest prayer to his Lord. It probably was the first time in years that he had been honest in confessing his sins and asking for help. He felt a little better about it, then remembered more things he hadn't confessed. This pattern would continue throughout the day. Confessing and asking for forgiveness.
Since he was around the corner from the other prisoners, they had largely forgotten about him and the yelling and obscene language had all but stopped. They had gotten tired of haranguing him, not being sure he was still in the jail. For this, Jimmy Bob gave a thankful prayer that was genuine.
Marcus Streeter came to see him again on Wednesday afternoon. He had gotten into Jimmy Bob's house before the locks were changed and had brought him two changes of clothes, along with a toilet kit that had an electric razor, deodorant, cologne, a bar of bath soap, nail clippers and a file. After he left, one of the deputies took him to the shower so he could clean up. By the time he was dressed, he felt almost human and looked it, too. After eating his meals at fast food emporiums when he wasn't invited to a member's home, prison food actually tasted pretty good to him, although he complained about what he thought were skimpy servings.
One of the deputies was nice enough to bring him a Bible and several paperback novels he could read to help pass the time. He started to read "Roots" by Alex Haley and was thoroughly caught up in it by the time he read the first chapter. In fact he went back to reread it to get some of the characters straight in his mind. He hadn't read a book of any kind in years, except to find quotes he could use in his sermons.
He wondered where Bret Jenkins, his church treasurer, was. He thought he might hear from him and a couple of others in the congregation who had always seemed loyal and unquestioning about what he told them. He wasn't worried about his wife. She could take care of herself.
Marcus told him that the bondsman wasn't willing to increase the bond for the additional charges that would be filed against him. The insurance hadn't been paid on the Cadillac, and it was determined that if there had been insurance, the car would have been totaled as the engine was damaged. Since he couldn't get a guarantee of payment of his fee, he would not help Jimmy Bob any further.
A court appointed attorney would probably be appointed by the judge to defend him, and if that followed the usual pattern, it was usually just a cursory defense by an incompetent lawyer who signed up to defend people only so they could earn a little extra money.
Things were not looking good for Jimmy Bob Jones and if he'd known what was being uncovered at the church and his home right now, he would have been back on his knees, begging God for mercy on his poor wretched soul.
Late in the afternoon Eddie called his friend, Charles Stephens, in the Houston Juvenile Hall to visit with him about the possibility of taking troubled teens where suitable homes couldn't be found. After they exchanged greetings, Eddie told him about his idea, saying that they preferred a boy who was having problems with his discovery that he might be gay.
"I'm sorry, Eddie, I'd love to take you up on the offer and my friend, who is a judge in the juvenile system, would be more than happy to talk to you and your partner. However, the problem is that you are 200 miles away and out of our jurisdiction."
Eddie was disappointed. "We thought maybe this might be a chance to do some good."
"Don't give up. I know someone who works for the juvenile system in Austin. Let me give him a call and tell him of your willingness to help. I'll give you a good recommendation and tell him to call you if he thinks you can help them. I'm sure they have the same situation there as we do here. More boys than qualified homes."
"Thanks, Charlie. Tom and I have some counseling experience and think we might be able to make a difference in a boy's life. This is a great community for raising children and I think we'd have a lot of support from others in the area who would be anxious to help."
"I'll try to call him right now. Maybe you'll hear from him soon. I'd sure talk to you if you still lived here in Houston."
They exchanged good-byes.
Charles Stephens immediately called his friend, Jeremy Houser, in Austin. They had met at a regional social workers workshop several years before in San Antonio and had ended up sharing one room for the rest of the week. While they weren't really lovers, it was a long distance relationship and at least one weekend a month one of them drove to the other city to spend the two days.
He was surprised when his friend answered the phone on the first ring.
"Houser, here," he answered.
"Jeremy." he started to say when he was cut off.
"Chuck, gosh it's good to hear from you in the middle of the week. It's a wonderful surprise. What's going on?"
"A fellow I know who used to teach here in Houston has moved to your area. He did a little counseling of teen boys who thought they were gay. He might be willing to help you out there by providing counseling and helping the boys who need a place to live," Charles told him.
"You know that we need all the help we can get and don't have enough sympathetic people to deal with the boys who need help. Of course, I want to talk to him."
"He and his partner live in Williamsport. Both of them are teachers. Eddie Thompson is a coach in the middle school there and works in the summer recreation program. His partner, Tom Bryant, teaches History in the same school," Charles told him.
"Williamsport?" Jeremy laughed. "That town has been put on the map this week, hasn't it?"
"To be sure. I hope they lock that minister up and throw away the key," Charles said.
"Talk about kids that are going to need counseling, that town ought to be a fertile field to work in," Jeremy said.
"Actually, Eddie and Tom have worked with two or three of those kids in the past. They helped the kids understand what was going on, but the parents refused to either believe it or wouldn't confront the minister. Without their cooperation, Eddie and Tom couldn't do anything to prevent it," Charles told him.
"I don't know why parents are so blind about stuff like that. They are just as guilty as the guy doing the evil deed. In many cases it just makes it easier for the perpetrator to go on and hurt more kids," Jeremy said.
"Enough of that. Let me give you their names and phone number. Maybe you can arrange an interview with them and they can help you out," Charles said.
"If they have any qualifications at all, I know I can use them. With your recommendation, I know they have to be good," Jeremy said.
"Hey, it's my turn to come to Austin this time. Maybe we can get together with these fellows for dinner. I haven't seen Eddie since he left Houston."
"Let me see what I can set up. Will you drive up on Friday night?" Jeremy asked.
"Yeah, if that's okay. I'll plan to be at your place about 7 o'clock. I'm looking forward to a weekend away from town where they can't find me," Charles told him.
"Leave your cell phone at home, then," Jeremy laughed. "I'll leave mine turned off."
"In your dreams," Charles laughed before hanging up.
Jeremy was always glad to hear from Charles. He wished they could move their relationship to a higher level, but the distance was too far to consider anything beyond their spending a weekend together now and then. Jeremy thought that Austin was as large of a town as he wanted to live in and Charles seemed to think that anyplace outside Houston was the end of the world. Well, Charles lived in the Montrose district of Houston, which was one of the larger gay enclaves in the United States. Jeremy always had the impression that you could go for days there and never see a straight person.
There were a lot of gay people in Austin. They seemed to gravitate to government jobs and were good at keeping the wheels of bureaucracy greased and turning. Jeremy never understood how those guys could go out every night, troll for tricks, fuck each other silly the rest of the night, then go lobby against gay rights, gay adoption, repeal of the sodomy laws or whatever other gay issue was at the forefront. If they would be truthful about their sexuality and all band together, they could turn the state laws into a model for gay rights. But no, as soon as the sun came up, they put on their legislative-aide suits and changed back into Dr. Jekyll.
He looked at his watch. It was almost 5 p.m. He dialed the number in Williamsport. Tom answered the telephone.
"Is this Eddie Thompson?"
"No. Just a minute."
In a few seconds he heard, "Eddie Thompson."
"Eddie, this is Jeremy Houser. I work for the juvenile court system in Austin. Your friend, Charles Stephens, called me a little earlier and told me that you and your friend, Tom Bryant, might be interested in working with our system in the placement of teen boys who need a place to live and some counseling."
"Yes. We've had some experience with that and have tried to help three boys here in Williamsport who were molested by Jimmy Bob Jones. Unfortunately, while we may have helped the boys, their parents refused to believe it had happened and wouldn't press charges. Our hands were tied to try to prevent him from having contact with others," Eddie said.
"Are you interested in going through our indoctrination and training program here to see if you are qualified? You realize that we have to do profiles on each of you to make sure you are qualified and that there isn't anything in your background to prevent you from becoming certified."
"Yes, I. we. understand."
"Good. Chuck is coming up here on Friday night and will be going back to Houston late on Sunday night. Are you fellows free to meet with us and possibly have dinner on Friday or Saturday evening?"
"It would have to be Saturday. I'm a coach and we have a Junior League football game on Friday evening. Let me check with Tom right now."
Eddie covered the receiver.
"Hon, if you are interested in getting into the juvenile court program, we're invited to dinner on Saturday night. My old friend, Charles Stephens from Houston will be there, too."
"Sounds fine to me. Go ahead and set it up," Tom told him.
"Jeremy, Tom says it's fine. Just tell me where and what time."
"Why don't you plan to be here at 6 o'clock? The address is 4205 Red River and the telephone number is 555-5613."
Eddie read the information back, saying they would see them Saturday evening and hung up.
"I didn't expect anything to happen this quickly. Jeremy Houser told me that we would have to go through training and some other tests to get certified. He and Charles will explain all of the requirements to us over dinner."
"That's great," Tom said. "I think we will be good providers."
"You know, I knew that Charles had a friend that lived out of town that he went to see fairly regularly. Sounds like we're going to get to meet him."
"Well, it will be an interesting evening just to meet these fellows," Tom said.
He was finishing the preparation for their dinner, which was going to be an oriental stir-fry. It took a lot of time to chop and dice the ingredients so he liked to get as much done ahead of time as possible so they could relax for a little bit and share their day with each other.
Dale and Frank were just finishing emptying the last of the storage areas in the garage. Joe had a lot of nice shop tools, although little in the way of power equipment except for a radial arm saw.
Phil Baker parked his Lexus on the street in front of the house and made his way up the driveway. Dale walked out to meet him and they introduced themselves. He guessed that Phil was probably about Frank's age, somewhere around 55.
"We might as well start here in the garage so you can see what is for sale," Dale told him. As they walked into the garage, Dale introduced him to Frank. He shook hands with him and exchanged pleasantries.
"Have you set aside the things you want to keep, yet?" Phil asked.
"Most everything," Dale said. "I don't think there is much I want because I don't have room for it. We live in an apartment and have limited storage."
"I understand," Phil said.
He had a small micro-cassette recorder and started talking into that as he looked through things. The men walked out onto the driveway to be out of his way and not interfere with his talking.
"I didn't ask you if you wanted any of the tools," Dale told Frank.
"No, I have a big shop in the basement and I didn't see anything here that isn't a duplicate of what I already have."
"We might as well go in the house to see how Doris and her crew are getting along," Dale said. "You go on in and I'll tell Phil to come in when he's though here."
"Now the real work begins when you sign onto her crew," Frank laughed, heading toward the front door.
Dale walked back in the garage and stood until Phil clicked off the recorder.
"I'm going inside to help the others. Come on in when you are through out here," Dale told him.
"Will do. It will take me about 10 more minutes here."
Dale went in the house. Craig was emptying kitchen cabinets and drawers. The kitchen table and counter were getting full. Dale was impressed with the appliances, utensils and kitchen gadgets and made a mental note to ask Joey if Joe did a lot of cooking. He remembered Joey telling him and Craig that he knew how to fix a number of things so he could have dinner ready when Joe arrived home after working late.
"How are you getting along?" Dale asked Craig.
"This is a lot of work," he said. This place is crammed full, everywhere, but I'm about through and it's a good thing because I'm about out of space."
"If you see anything that you think we might want, put it in the other room to be packed to go home with us."
"Actually, I've already done some of that, mostly on Mom's recommendation, but I think there may be several other things and I'll show them to you later," Craig told him.
"Okay, I'll leave it up to you, but we can look things over later. Oh, if there are any cookbooks, hang on to them. Joey talked about using a couple of them. I'm going to check on the others."
He found Doris finishing in the closet in the fourth bedroom that Joe used for an office.
"Hi," she said. "I think there is a lot of paperwork that needs to be saved, probably for tax purposes. We can buy heavy cardboard file boxes at the office supply store and transfer the contents of that file cabinet, then it can be sold."
There was an old IBM computer on the desk. Dale didn't know too much about computers, but would ask Joey about it. On first glance around he didn't see anything of interest that he wanted to keep.
Doris took him to the third bedroom where she and Frank would sleep that night.
"These were on the closet shelf. Some of these things look like they could be family heirlooms. There are some old quilts and linens with crocheted lace. That stuff always sells well at garage sales."
She pulled open dresser drawers. "Not much in here, I didn't find anything of great value," she said, letting Dale look.
"I'll be finished in here in a few minutes, then I'll start in on Joe's bedroom."
"Okay," Dale said. He wanted to check drawers first incase they had missed anything he didn't think Doris or Frank should run across.
He walked across the hall and hurriedly pulled drawers open. Bingo. There were a few magazines and a box of condoms in the nightstand. He didn't find anything in the dresser and they had pretty well gone through the closet that morning before Doris and Frank got there.
About that time Craig came in with several kitchen items in his hands.
"Are there any grocery sacks or plastic bags that you can't see through?"
"Yeah," Craig said. "Under the sink. Why?"
"I found a box of condoms and some 'male' magazines in the nightstand," Dale said.
"And you want to take them home with you?" Dale could tell Craig was teasing him.
"No, not necessarily, but I don't think your parents should stumble across them."
"Mom would probably get a thrill out of the magazines," Craig laughed.
Dale wasn't sure if he should laugh, but did.
"Get a sack out of the kitchen. I'm keeping these things out of the kitchen. I'll put them in the living room to be packed," Craig said.
"Okay." Dale went to the kitchen, got a bag and disposed of the items in the bedroom.
Dale started to Joey's bedroom, still clutching the sack he was carrying.
About that time Phil Baker stuck his head into the living room. "Oh, there you are. I think I've looked at everything in the garage. Nice things, should sell well. Where do you want me to start in the house?"
"You might as well start in the kitchen. I think we've been through all the rooms and laid things out except for the large bedroom my father used. There are things against the east wall in the living room that we will keep, but there isn't much of that," Dale said.
"Okay. What about the refrigerator and the washer and dryer?"
"They are to be sold," Dale told him.
"I'm going to the kitchen, to start in there," Phil told him.
Dale agreed and started to Joey's bedroom again. Frank needed some help moving a couple of boxes they had packed. Dale laid the sack he was carrying on Joey's bed and helped Frank move the two big boxes. They weren't heavy, but bulky.
Joey saw the sack lying on his bed and looked to see what was in it. He hadn't seen Dale lay it down.
'Cool,' he thought and put it in the box of models he was packing.
Phil came back to the living room to ask about the microwave and toaster oven. Craig went with Dale and Phil to the kitchen after Dale introduced Craig.
Joey let Mitsy into the house and she immediately went to his room. She had been outside since they arrived and Frank hadn't seen her until then. Joey came back into the room.
"What's your dogs name?" Frank asked.
"Mitsy," Joey replied. "She's three years old."
Frank started playing with her, rubbing her ears and snout. She loved it and rolled over on her back so he could scratch her stomach. He obliged her for a moment, and then took his hand away. She immediately sat up and used her right paw to reach for Frank's hand, indicating that he wasn't through yet. She pawed again and he returned to petting her. He quit again and she pawed at his hand. They kept that up for several more times. Joey was watching. He'd never seen her do that trick before. Certainly he hadn't taught her that.
"Joey, she's a great dog. And smart, too," Frank said.
"Yeah, she's neat. I'm glad that Dale and Craig let me keep her."
"Craig had a Schnauzer named Smokey that he loved when he was growing up. Unfortunately, he died right after he graduated from high school and we just never got another dog. Now, we'd like to travel some and it's hard to put a dog in a kennel and a lot of trouble to get someone to come to the house several times a day to feed them and let them out, too."
"Yeah, I know. Mitsy's not too much trouble, but it's easy for Craig to go home at noon and check on her. And, if he has to do it, Dale's not too far away, either. I don't know if we can leave the high school during lunch hour or not. I'll have to find out about that."
"I want to show this dog to your grandmother," Frank said. He was still scratching Mitsy and she loved it. He took him hand away again and got the same message from Mitsy, 'You're not through paying attention to me.'
He got up, called Mitsy and took her to the other bedroom so Doris could see her.
Dale and Craig finished with Phil. He spent more time in the garage and kitchen than the other rooms. Finally he said, "You've got a lot of stuff here. It will probably sell well, but it will take my crew a week to lay it out and get everything ready." He consulted his calendar. "We're probably looking at having this ready to start the sale five weeks from tomorrow, maybe even sliding another week."
Dale was a little more than shocked. Craig spoke up.
"Do you have any idea as to the value of the sale items?" He knew the man wouldn't be able to give him an estimate; he just wanted to hear what he had to say.
"Oh, not as much as I thought when I first started in the garage. Maybe $10,000 to you after it's over. I advertise the sale on the Sunday ahead of when it starts. The sale starts on Thursday. On Friday, everything is marked down 30% and on Saturday it's marked down 60%. I charge 35%, which barely takes care of advertising, paying my help, and so on. When we're through, you can donate what's left to charity. Most will come pick it up.
Dale wasn't very happy. He'd done much better on his own sale than what this guy was telling him. And, with a lot less to sell. However, he remembered that the realtor, Harlan Holman said that Gable and Clark would do a better job for him.
"Let me have your card and we'll discuss this and let you know either way what we decide to do," Dale told him, knowing full well that he wouldn't be having the sale.
Phil gave him a card, shook hands with both men and left. He was thinking that although there were a lot of good items, there was too much other stuff that was going to take time to go through and price. It would take too much time for the money he could make off the sale.
Craig watched him get in his Lexus and drive off.
Dale was standing beside him.
"Who does he think we are, idiots from the sticks?" Dale was pissed. "We might as well pack everything up, haul it to Williamsport and let Carole and Paula have the sale. I bet we could have everything moved professionally and still come out ahead."
"You are probably right," Craig said. Didn't the realtor tell you that the other company was better, anyway?"
"Yeah they are two individuals, not a company, although I guess it doesn't make any difference what they call themselves. We just need to get rid of this stuff," Dale said.
"I understand. At least after we talk to the other people, we'll have a better idea of what is going on," Craig said.
Joey walked up about that time.
"Hi Dads, what's going on?
"I know what isn't going on. That idiot isn't going to have our sale unless the other people are even worse than him."
"What do you mean?" asked Joey.
"Well, to begin with, he's going to give everything away by marking it cheap, then giving a bigger discount on Friday and Saturday and it sounded to me like he wasn't going to get rid of the things that didn't sell. We'd have to come back here to dispose of that and clean the place up."
"Bummer," said Joey.
Craig looked at him. "Joey, have you looked through everything that Mom has laid out so that you don't miss anything you want to keep?"
"A lot of it. I haven't looked in the office or Dad's bedroom very much."
"What about the computer, do you want it?"
"It's an old IBM XT that Dad bought from his company when they were selling surplus office equipment. It doesn't even have a hard drive, just uses two floppy disks. About all it's good for is writing letters, using a Lotus spreadsheet and playing games. I think when he found out it was limited in what could be done, he decided that it was a waste of money to buy a printer."
"You've lost me," Dale told him.
Craig spoke up. "It's the original personal computer that IBM made and started selling about ten years ago. New computers are much faster, have more memory and a hard drive for storing data, and most now have color monitors. But, technology is changing so rapidly that anything you buy today is going to be obsolete tomorrow."
"Well, Joey, get busy and look through the rest of the things that Doris is laying out. Whatever you want, we'll get packed and take home with us."
"Okay, Dad," Joey said and started to Joe's bedroom.
Dale remembered carrying the sack with the magazines and condoms to Joey's bedroom. He was on his way to get them when the doorbell rang. Craig answered the door. It was the men from Gable and Clark. They introduced themselves as Rusty Gable and Cary Clark. Craig guessed they were about 35 years old and his Gaydar bells were pealing madly.
"I'm Craig Bastian. I'm glad to meet you fellows, but you will want to talk to my partner, Dale. He was the one that called you."
Dale heard the doorbell, so went back to the living room without looking for the sack of "evidence".
Craig was talking to two men and Dale assumed it was the other company that handled estate sales. He walked up to stand beside Craig.
"Dale Richards," he said, holding his hand out to Rusty.
"Rusty Gable and this is my partner, Cary Clark. Pleased to meet you."
Cary offered his firm handshake in greeting Dale. They each thought that Dale looked familiar, although younger than they remembered.
"Thanks for calling us," Rusty said. "Looks like you are busy here. Are the items laying out to be sold, or things you are keeping?"
"This is all for the sale, except for a few items over in the corner that we don't have boxed up yet. Craig's parents are here to help us get things out so we can see what's here. Our son, Joey, is around here somewhere. He's supposed to be looking at things he might want to keep for himself."
Mitsy had heard the doorbell, but Frank was playing with her, so she didn't go to investigate until she thought Frank was through scratching her ears. She sat down between Dale and Craig and offered her right paw to the visitors to shake.
"Good dog," Rusty said, shaking her hand.
"This is our dog, Mitsy," Craig said.
"She's beautiful," Rusty said, shaking her paw. He let it go and she immediately tried to get Cary's attention. Everyone laughed. Dale and Craig hadn't seen her pull this trick before.
Joey came into the room carrying two sweatshirts.
Both Rusty and Cary were struck with how much Dale and the teen resembled each other. They still couldn't remember why they looked familiar, someone they had met at another time.
"Hey Dads, look what I found," he said. "Can I keep them?"
He was holding the two sweatshirts. One said "Fire Island Immigration Service" on the front and the other said "Provincetown Border Patrol".
Dale didn't know that Fire Island and Provincetown were big gay meccas in the summer. Craig and the other two men broke up. Joey joined them.
Dale was wondering what was so funny, although he had a suspicion that it had to do with being gay.
Craig recovered enough to tell Joey, "You can keep them if you want, but I don't want to be seen in Williamsport with you when you're wearing either of them."
Joey was beaming. "Aren't they neat?"
More laughter.
Rusty held his hand out to Joey. "I'm Rusty Gable."
"Hi, I'm Joey Sullivan"
Cary introduced himself. "How old are you, Joey?"
"Fourteen," he proudly said.
Dale added, ".going on 25."
More laughter.
Rusty had decided that this was probably a gay family, they were even dressed somewhat alike and Dale and Craig were wearing identical rings on their left hands, so he decided to plunge in.
"Are you fellows related to each other?"
Dale hesitated and Craig answered, "Dale and Joey are half- brothers. Their father and Joey lived in this house until he died last week. Dale and I are domestic partners and he is now Joey's legal guardian. You've probably noticed that Joey calls both of us, Dad."
Joey was standing between them with a grin on his face and his arms around their waists.
"That's why you look familiar," Rusty said. "Do you look like your father?"
"Yes, you could easily tell that we were related, just different ages," Dale said.
'We used to see a fellow that was probably your father at the bars here in Houston."
"That was probably him," Joey spoke up. "He and a pal of his used to go bar hopping together."
"Well, it looks like all of our dirty laundry is hanging out for everyone to see," Craig laughed.
"I don't think that's true. Let's just say that you've revealed yourselves and we're like you," Cary told them.
"We think it's great that you all get along together and it's obvious that you love each other," Rusty added.
"We are going to be a good family and we both love Joey and know he loves us," Dale said. He put his arm around Joey's shoulder and gave him a squeeze. He was rewarded with Joey's own 1,000-watt smile.
"Well, we need to get to work and look this stuff over. What about the house, how soon do you have to vacate?" Rusty asked.
"We have an exclusive contract with Harlan Holman for 60 days and he indicated that he might have a buyer. We're here to pack the things Joey wants to keep and transport them back to Williamsport. Craig's parents are helping us and Frank is going to buy Joe's Oldsmobile and drive it back to Arlington after they stop in Williamsport," Dale told them.
"Okay. Let Cary and I look at things, then we can tell you how we run a sale and what you get when we sign a contract," Rusty said.
"That's fine. Where do you want to start?" Dale asked.
"I think Cary will start in the kitchen and I'll start in the garage, then we'll divide up the rest as we start through the house. Some rooms won't take too long and others will have more in them."
"That's fine," Craig said. "My parents are working on the last room right now, emptying drawers so all of us can see what it here."
"Good, then everything that isn't in the corner over there, or packed up is for the sale?" Rusty clarified.
"Yes, unless we discover some hidden treasure we can't do without," Dale laughed.
Rusty pulled a small recorder out of his pocket and Cary did the same. They headed to the kitchen and garage.
Dale, Craig and Joey watched them walk out of the room.
"I sure have a better feeling about these men than Phil Baker," Dale said.
"Maybe it's because they're gay?" Craig questioned.
"No, I don't think it's that. They just seem more sincere," he answered.
"They seem like neat guys," Joey said.
"Tell me, because I'm ignorant, but what's so funny about those sweatshirts?" Dale asked.
Craig laughed.
"Fire Island on Long Island and Provincetown on Cape Cod are two of the big gay areas in the country, especially in the summer. They are expensive areas to visit and property values are sky-high, but they are 'the places' to be seen," Craig said.
"So, the 'Immigration Service' and 'Border Patrols' are a joke, like to keep non-gay people from going there," Joey said. "I think it's funny."
Dale understood. "That is really funny. I've heard of those places, but didn't have time to think it through. Yes, Joey, you can keep them, but I'm like Craig, you have to walk either 50 feet in front of us or 50 feet behind."
All three of them laughed.
Rusty and Cary spent almost an hour and a half going through the items in the house and were ready to sit down with Dale and Craig to talk about the sale. They had met Craig's parents and were impressed they had driven down from Arlington to help "their sons" as both Frank and Doris had called them.
"Okay," Rusty said. "Here's what we do. We have four people who will come in to help us. We'll set up tables and put items out so we can price them. This is a good area and you have a lot of really nice things, so we will sell a lot the first day at a good price, higher than other areas of the city. If someone sees an item they want, but doesn't want to pay the price, we have a 'bid box'. They can put their name and phone number on a piece of paper; note the item and how much they are willing to pay. Sometimes the item will sell before we look at the bids and other times they get it at the price they are willing to pay. The second day, everything is automatically marked down 25% and the third day is 50% off the marked price. You have the right to put minimum prices on anything and also to request we put a higher price than we have marked on something.
"We advertise the sale on Sunday with a small ad announcing the sale. Then on Thursday, the day the sale starts, we run a more detailed ad in the paper. People have until Monday to pick up large items. We clean, mop floors and vacuum so the house is clean when we are though. We have people who will come in and buy things that don't sell for their flea markets, or we can have you designate a charity to donate it to. Those charities usually will pick things up.
"We charge 30% of the total taken in and are responsible for the advertising," Rusty said.
"You have a lot of really good things that will sell well, especially the shop equipment in the garage, all of the kitchen items and furniture. Bedding and towels sell well. Men's clothing does sometimes and sometimes it doesn't. These clothes are better than most we sell, but it's hard to tell, it just takes the right people who attend the sale, Cary said.
"We think we might be able to gross about $30,000, so you might have anywhere from $17 thousand to $21 thousand as your share, but that's no guarantee. Weather and the right mix of people are the determining factor," Rusty added.
"Geez," Dale said. "That's sure a different report than we got from Phil Baker earlier today."
Rusty and Cary both laughed. "We don't take our share off the top and then charge you another 35% to boot," Rusty told them.
"Harlan Holman told us you men were good at what you do," Dale said.
"And. fair, also," Craig added.
"What kind of timeframe are we looking at?" Dale asked.
Cary pulled out his calendar. "We had a cancellation. An estate got tied up in court as the woman's daughter thought she should get everything. Her mother left her $10,000 with the stipulation that if she contested the will, she would get nothing. The estate is worth a couple million and she and her mother had been estranged for twenty years. The daughter got a shyster lawyer to take the suit on a percentage of what the value of the estate should be and they are going to court. She's demanding a jury trial and will probably lose."
"That's too bad," Dale said.
"Yes, but it's a fact of life," Rusty said.
"We can start pricing the week after next and I think we can start the sale the next week, the first day of the sale will be two weeks from tomorrow," Cary told them.
Dale looked at Craig, with a question in his eyes. Craig nodded his head.
"I don't think there's any question. You're going to have the sale," Dale said.
"We'll do a good job for you and you have the right to come in the day before to look things over, check us on prices and take anything you might have missed that you want," Rusty said.
"I'll fill out a contract and we will need a house key," Cary told them.
"That's fine. Let me get an extra key," Dale said, going to the closet in Joe's bedroom. He came back with the key and the alarm code written on a card.
They visited while Cary filled out the simple contract.
"You've really had some excitement in Williamsport the last few days, haven't you?" Rusty said.
"We sure have and I don't think it's all over with yet," Craig said.
"Cary and I got a big laugh about the ministers lackey that got his arm broken. I'd sure like to shake the hand of the fellow who did that."
Dale stood up, bowed, held out his hand and said, "At your service."
"No shit?" Rusty was impressed.
"It was I. He was yelling obscenities and had just thrown his 16-year old son out of the house because he'd warned our group we were being watched. He came out swinging and I grabbed his wrist and gave it a twist to back him into the wall. I never realized that a bone made so much noise when it broke."
"Cary and I live in the Montrose District, it's the big gay area here. Man, you would be a national hero if you came to the bars down there tonight. You would have more drinks purchased for you than you could drink in a year."
Dale was a little embarrassed. Craig was absolutely glowing with pride.
"Well, quite frankly the man is no smarter than Jimmy Bob. If Jimmy Bob told him to jump, he'd ask 'how high' on the way up."
All of them laughed.
"Seriously, would you like to join us at our favorite bar tonight?" Rusty asked.
"If it were under any other circumstances, we probably would, but Craig's parents are here to help us work, as is Joey. We've got a lot to do before we leave tomorrow afternoon," Dale said.
"We really do appreciate the invitation, though. Maybe we can come to Houston another time and get together," Craig told them.
"Or maybe we could come to Williamsport. We've never been in that area of the state," Rusty said.
"It's beautiful. You guys would love it," Craig said.
Dale signed the simple contract and they shook hands all around. Dale and Craig walked them to their vehicle, a sensible (for their work) GMC Suburban.
"They were nice fellows," Craig told Dale as they drove off. "I'd welcome them as friends anytime."
"I have to agree with you. They seem sensible and honest, too," Dale said.
In their van, Rusty and Cary expressed the same opinion, however, Rusty added, "What did you think about Joey? Isn't he going to be a heartthrob in a few years?"
"What do you mean, 'in a few years'? He's already one and knows it. He's adorable," Cary agreed.
By this time it was a little after 6:30. Everybody else was in the living room, sitting in chairs when Dale and Craig joined them.
"I can guess that these fellows are going to have the sale," Doris said.
"No question about it. The other guy ought to have a sign around his neck that says 'Rip-off Artist'," Craig told them.
Dale gave them the details of the two offers. Everyone agreed with he and Craig.
"The kitchen is too torn up to fix anything to eat. We can either order in or go out somewhere," Dale said.
"What? No Happy Hour?" Craig said, pretending to whine.
"Joey, is there any liquor in the house, or did you drink it all?" Frank teased.
"Yeah, there's a whole bunch in the lower cabinet next to the sink on the left side," he said. "It's all on a pull-out cart."
"Sounds good to me, I didn't do anything with it yet. Come on, Dad," Craig said to Frank.
"You fellows need to pack that up and put it in the trunk of one of the cars and take it home with you. No use donating it to the estate sale, they can't sell it so it will just disappear to their house," Frank told them.
"I need to call Harlan Holman and tell him that Gable and Clark are having our estate sale and that they may be contacting him about it," Dale said, pulling his card out of his shirt pocket.
He left to go to the kitchen to use the telephone.
Doris and Joey were in the living room by themselves.
"Joey, are you sure you've gotten everything out and packed up that you want to keep?" Doris asked.
"The only things I haven't looked through are Dad's dresser drawers. I know he has some nice jewelry; cuff links and stuff like that and there may some personal things, too, that Dale says I should take. Do I have to look at them tonight?" he asked.
"No, I know you're tired. We all are, but I just wanted to make sure you weren't leaving anything behind.
"Thanks. I'm really happy that you and grandpa could come down here to help out. Both Dads said that you were neat people."
"I don't know about that, but we love Craig. We don't know Dale that well, because we've not been together that much, but we think he's pretty special because he loves our son, and now they both have you and I know you all love each other."
"Yeah, I think we do. They are great guys," Joey said.
About that time Frank came back in the room carrying a tray of drinks, followed by Craig, who was carrying a plate of crackers and cheese.
"Joey, what do you want to drink?" Frank asked.
"There should be some cold Coke's in the fridge. I'll get one," he said, jumping up.
Dale came back from talking to Harlan and soon they were all settled where they could talk to each other. Frank and Craig were drinking Beefeater Gin and Doris and Dale were drinking Dewars and soda.
"Joey, you get to decide what we do for dinner this evening. This is your last night in Houston, except maybe to come visit friends," Dale told him.
"This is your one chance to go somewhere that's super expensive," Frank teased.
Everyone laughed.
"Dads will just take it out of my allowance, so we might as well go to Mickey Dee's," Joey said with a straight face.
Everyone laughed again.
"I think these two are just going to make my life a living hell," Craig said, laughing.
Everyone joined him.
Joey was enjoying this. He and Joe used to verbally spar back and forth with each other. He was glad that his new family did that, also.
In the end, they decided to go to a really great seafood restaurant just north of the downtown area. The restaurant served family style although you ordered the quantities you wanted of the various dishes, then passed the serving dishes around the table. The wait staff was attentive to replenishing dishes as needed if you wanted more.
After they arrived back at the house, it was apparent that everyone was just about done in from the days activities, after all they had been up since 5:30 or so that morning. All retired to their respective rooms.
(to be continued)
Author's Note: Never in my wildest dreams did I think this story would go for this long. I continue to be astounded at the number of emails I receive each time a new chapter is posted and I thank you for each and every one of them. Everyone has fallen in love with these characters and their adventures in the town of Williamsport. I have no plans to end the story anytime soon, but may resolve some of the current open issues and then skip ahead of couple of years in time to look at the results of some groundwork that has been laid in previous chapters.
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
My special thanks for proofreading help to Paul Daventon, who has taken time to help me catch obvious errors.