By the time we got back to the farm, the drizzle, rather than petering out, had run to get its big brother, and was coming down in buckets. There was a short run from the garage to the house, but in just that short time we almost got soaked through to the skin. Not quite, but it was close enough that we needed a change of clothes.

I changed into a pair of flannel pajamas, slipped on my bathrobe and slippers, and made my way downstairs again – only to find a very naked Tony trying to build a fire in the fireplace.

"You're going to freeze to death, going around like that," I chided him as I took my bathrobe off and wrapped it around him. "But we did overlook getting you a nice warm bathrobe, didn't we? Have to fix that next time we're in town."

"I'm okay, Mister Dahler . . . Really!" Tony protested, even as he wrapped the robe around himself.

It was too big, of course, so I rolled the sleeves up for him. "There! But I think I better do the fire; those sleeves might get in the way." The 'Mister Dahler' kind of bothered me, but I ignored it. All I could do was tell him what was okay with me; he was the one who would decide when – or if – he was comfortable with it.

Tony reluctantly left his self-appointed job, and went and curled up on the couch where he could watch me. I caught him pulling the fabric up to his nose and sniffing it. I didn't use fabric softener or dryer sheets, so what was he trying to smell? Me?

Once the kindling had caught I sat down with Tony, who cuddled up to me. I put an arm around him to share body heat. Five minutes later the fire was starting to catch hold, and the first waves of heat moved out into the room.

"Are your parents alive?" Tony asked me.

I felt that familiar tightness in my chest as I answered, "Yeah."

"What are they like?"

I hesitated, but I guess if anyone deserved to know, it was Tony. "A little like your dad, I guess. I was an adult and out on my own before I told them I was gay, but . . . ." I shrugged. "They're fundamentalist Christians." To Tony's look of incomprehension, I said, "They more or less disowned me – just like your dad did when he told you to get out and not come back. I haven't seen them or really talked to them since. Been about five years, now."

There really hadn't been a scene when I'd told them; Dad had stared at me for awhile – waiting for me to say it was all a joke or something, probably – and then left the room. He never said another word to me. Mom had asked me why I'd chosen to defy God's plan of one man, one woman. Why would I choose to be gay? I don't think she really heard me when I told her there was no choice about it. Her church said it was a lifestyle choice and you could choose to be heterosexual if you wanted to – and that was that. She said she'd pray for me. Hah! As if that would heal the hurt she and dad had caused me. The only protection I had was to cut off as much contact with them as possible, and hope their attitudes would change.

I had been struggling to hold onto my faith anyway, but that was the point where I gave up the fight. I just couldn't believe in a religion that would teach intolerance.

My mom kept calling me two or three times a year, but I dreaded those calls, now. All she did was preach at me, and damnit, there was nothing I could do about it! I'd tried! In high school. God, how I'd tried – not for me, 'cause I knew where my comfort zone was, but for them. Girls just didn't do it for me. Even just trying to do something sexual with a girl . . . I liked girls – women – as friends, but . . . well, there was just this aversion to them sexually.

Tony snuggled in closer without a word, burrowing his head into my side.

"They're stupid," he finally said in a small voice, but with conviction. "I think you're wonderful."

I could feel tears start to my eyes. It surprised me that his words meant that much to me.

"Thank you," I said. "I think you're wonderful, too."

We sat and watched tv for the rest of the evening, one or the other of us getting up once in a while to put another log on the fire, and snacking on the pizza.

At ten I sent Tony up to bed. Tomorrow was a school day. And then I just sat and watched the fire for awhile. The hypnotic dancing of the flames lulled my depression – from dwelling on thoughts of my parents – to calmness. I think that's why I'd become an actuary, too. Deadly dull, repetitive work that numbed my brain. Well, I was ready to start living, now.

I made sure the fire screen was securely in place, checked to make sure the doors were locked, and went to bed. The sheets were cold! But it didn't take too long to warm up, and I was just starting to drift off to sleep when Tony wandered in.

"Fergot ta give ya yer bathrobe back," he explained rather sheepishly, taking it off and holding it out to me as he stood by the bed.

"Thanks, Tony, but why don't you keep it tonight? We can get you one tomorrow."

Tony looked uncomfortable, but he said, "Um . . . Okay." He didn't make a move to go back to his room, though – he just stood there, fidgeting a little.

"Was there something else?" I asked.

He looked disappointed as he said, "No. Um . . . thanks."

As he headed for my bedroom door, it occurred to me that something else might be going on here.

"Tony?" I said just as he reached the doorway.

He stopped and looked back, waiting to see what I wanted to say.

"Did you want to sleep with me again?" I asked.

He shook his head, the lie plain in his eyes. "Naw. Thanks, though." He turned to leave again.

"Tony," I said, again getting his attention. I lifted the covers – a silent invitation.

He hesitated for a long time, then swallowed his pride and silently turned around and came back to the bed before crawling in beside me. I covered him with the blankets and wrapped an arm around him as he cuddled up close to me and laid his head on my chest. I kissed it, then laid back. It wasn't much longer before I was asleep.

When I woke up, Tony was gone. It was just past eight o'clock, so he had to have left some time ago in order to catch the bus.

After shaving, showering, and doing everything else needed to get ready for the day, including eating a simple breakfast, I got hold of a couple of contractors on the phone and asked that they come out to give me an estimate on painting and repairs for the outbuildings, and then a few roofers to get estimates on putting a new roof on the big house – all with the thought of increasing the property's value.

I then called around and found a real estate appraiser who had a reputation for fairness, then set up an appointment for two months from now.

I logged on to the 'Net to again check my email and forums, then had an early lunch before setting off in the pickup to take another tour of the property.

When I got back there was a light flashing on the answering machine. It was Tony, asking me to come get him at his school. He sounded pretty rough. But damnit, I didn't even know the name of his school, let alone where it was! I got the pickup back out, and ran over to the Johnson place. Ed Johnson should have been out working the fields – and he was, with his older boys. He had two others besides Tony still in high school. Josey, his wife, was home though, and she gave me the information I needed.

I didn't know when Tony had left that message, so I pushed the speed limit as much as I dared. Twenty minutes later I was in the halls of his school, looking for the main office. When I found it, I also found Tony in the waiting room. He looked terrible. He looked like he'd been worked over by a gang. He was bloody, bruised, dirty, and his clothes were wrecked.

"Aw, shit. Who did this?" I asked him. Tony looked up at me miserably, but before he could say anything, another voice spoke up.

"Mister Johnson?" an officious looking woman inquired of me.

"No, but I'm applying for Tony's guardianship," I replied. "What happened?"

"And you are?" she asked stiffly.

I was more than a little annoyed that this woman was being obstructive and wasting time rather than letting me get Tony out of there. I wanted to get him checked out by a doctor. "If we're exchanging identities," I said, letting my anger show in my voice, "perhaps you should introduce yourself?"

"I hardly think—"

"I can see that!" I snapped, interrupting her. I ignored her reddening face as I said, "It doesn't look like you've even had your school nurse look at Tony, and I want to make sure he's okay!"

"He won't be coming back. He's been expelled for fighting," the woman said.

"And the ones who did this to him?"

"I don't see how that is any of your business," she replied aloofly.

I looked at her, my temper barely held in check. To me, that meant the miscreants had got off scot-free. "My lawyer will be investigating this," I told her. "I suspect that when I'm done suing the district, it'll be so broke you'll be shipping your students elsewhere."

Her face paled. "There is no call—"

Again I interrupted as I said, "Then you had best rethink your position, and punish the ones who did this!" Actually I hadn't a leg to stand on, and I knew it – but they didn't.

"Come on, Tony," I said to him.

"You have to sign him out, Mister . . . !"

I still hadn't given her my name.

"And validate your decision, madam? Hardly!" I replied, heading for the door.

Tony had limped to the door by that time, and was just passing through it as I came up behind him.

"Are you really going to sue them?" Tony asked as we walked away from the office.

"We'll talk about it in the car, okay?" I replied. I didn't want anyone overhearing me say I couldn't do anything.

"What happened?" I asked again.

"My brothers," he mumbled.

"What?" I couldn't believe what I'd heard. His brothers had done this to him?

"My brothers," Tony said again, louder. "They tole everybody I was queer, and livin' with Miss Martha's queer nephew."

"So of course a few of the school bullies decided they should teach you a lesson," I mused out loud. "Did you do or say anything that might have set them off?"

"I was just walkin' 'cross the yard! They stopped me, pushed me 'round, then started hittin' on me. I tried to fight 'em, but . . . ."

"Did anyone try to stop it?"

"No!" Tony said in indignant anger. "Even the teachers just watched!"

"There were teachers there?"

"Three of 'em!"

I was seething. "So who stopped it?"

"Miss Smith," Tony replied.

"And she is . . . ?"

"She's new," Tony said. "Teaches sophomore math."

"I take it she wasn't one of the ones who was watching, then?"

"No."

Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it! I wanted to sue the pants off of everyone involved and get the bullies put in juvenile hall so bad I could taste it, but if anyone was vindictive enough to investigate me if I made trouble – and they would, I was sure – that shady guardianship application would disappear without a trace, and the lawyer might even jump on the bandwagon and accuse me of trying to bribe him to commit an illegal act.

I was so focussed on my thoughts that I didn't notice Tony looking at me cautiously – almost as though he'd never seen me before – until we were at the car.

"You okay?" he asked me in a tiny voice.

I looked him in the eye when I heard something a bit off in his voice. Tony was scared – of me!

"I'm so pissed off I'm grinding my teeth down to the nub, Tony: but not with you. I'm angry at the bullies, at the teachers, at that damn stupid woman in the office . . . Was that your principal?"

"Yeah," Tony replied, still looking a little wary, but not as scared as he had been.

"Get in the car," I instructed him as I walked around to the other side, fishing my keys out of my pocket.

Once we were buckled in and I was driving us out of the parking lot, I said, "What makes me even more mad is that I can't do a damned thing about it."

"Ya can't? Why?"

"Because if I make any waves, you're likely to wind up in a group home, or worse – and I could wind up in prison."

We were at the street.

"Which way do I go for the doctor your family uses?" I asked him.

"The free Wellness Clinic. It's that way," Tony said, pointing to the right – and wincing as he did so.

"Why would you go to jail?" he then asked.

"You're underage, I don't have legal custody, and mostly because they would assume I'm having sex with you, whether I was or not."

"But—"

"Don't say it," I warned, but then I gave him a smile to take the sting out of it. "It wouldn't matter what the truth was, Tony," I explained. "You're living with me instead of with your parents, and since your family knows that you're gay, too . . . ."

Tony looked like he wanted to argue about it, but then he let his breath out in a long sigh, conceding the point, and proceded to look blankly out the car window.

There was a little trouble at the clinic because I wasn't legally able to authorize medical treatment for Tony, but a quick phone call to his mother fixed that problem, as she verbally authorized any needed medical treatment.

I was beginning to think I may have been a little hasty in my judgement of the woman – but only a little.

Fortunately Tony looked a lot worse than the damage actually was. He had a lot of bruising, some of which were pretty deep, the damage including a black eye and a bloody nose, but the worst of it was a cracked rib. Of course I had to make a report of what happened to him – second hand information which they could have got much more accurately from Tony himself, but I took great vindictive joy in relating the school's failings in Tony's case.

I assume they crosschecked what I told them with Tony, but if they did, it was while he was in an examination room.

It was well past lunchtime by the time we got out of there – close to three o'clock – so I took Tony to a Krystal burger store, where he ordered a Chili Pup, BA, and frozen coke. I got a double BA with cheese and bacon, fries, and a Dr. Pepper^#. Strange names, but familiar food.

Afterward we went shopping. With the advent of this incident, it was entirely possible that a social worker would be sent to investigate. I bought Tony both a long terry-cloth bathrobe, as well as a short one made of satin (for cold and warm weather, respectively). I also bought, over his objections, a package each of boxers and briefs, and two pair of pajamas.

"I'm not going to make you wear them," I told Tony when we got back out to the car, "but if a social worker comes to check things out, you have to have them."

"Why?" he asked, frustrated.

"You want everyone to know that you're a nudist?" I whispered to him teasingly.

Tony looked at me, his brow furrowed, then he backhanded my arm. "So what?" he said, his cheeks tinting.

"So it looks like everything between you and me is as pure as the driven snow," I replied seriously. "If you didn't have underwear, it would look like I wanted it like that, for sexual purposes."

"Dirty minded people," Tony murmured murderously.

"Yes, they are. But sometimes they have to be. Sometimes young people are being used sexually – against their will," I told him.

"But what if . . . ." Tony's sentence trailed off as his whole face flushed.

"Doesn't matter," I told him, assuming the rest of his sentence would have been '. . .if they wanted it, too.' "The law thinks that until you're a certain age, you can't really know what you want."

"That's stupid," Tony spat out.

I gave a noncommital shrug, but what I said was, "I agree, but I didn't make the laws."

Tony was silent for a long time, then he said, "Mister Dahler?"

"Mm-hm?"

"I want you, too."

I just about back-ended a van.

I put a hand on Tony's thigh while I drove and tried to recover from the shock of his bald statement.

"Damn, Tony," I said when I finally felt sufficiently recovered, "don't say things like that when I'm driving."

Tony was looking a little pale and shaken, too. "Yeah," he agreed shakily.

"Now isn't a good time, though. You know that, don't you?" I said.

"Not while you're driving," Tony replied.

I gave a little laugh. He must still be in shock, I thought.

"No, I mean now isn't a good time to change our relationship. What with the trouble at your school, the guardianship papers, and the possibility of social workers investigating us . . . . If we were to – you know – then it could all come crashing down around our ears."

"Jail," Tony said, nodding his understanding.

"Among other possibilities for me, yes," I said. "You could wind up going into foster care, juvenile hall, or back to your parents."

"Assholes," Tony said mutinously. "Why can't they leave us alone?"

I didn't think he expected an answer to that, so I didn't reply to it. What I did say was, "Were you serious?"

Tony looked at me incredulously before blushing and dropping his eyes to the space between the seats. "As a heart attack," he whispered.

Okay, now the ball was in my court. What did I do about it? I had already told Tony that I'd like to advance our relationship, but I had thought it would be quite awhile before he was ready for that. He had, after all, asked that we put that step off until some nebulous 'later'. I had expected that it would be at least a few more months. I was quiet the rest of the way home, thinking.

One of the first things I did was remove all the tags and throw all of Tony's new stuff in the washer to remove that 'just bought' look. They'd still look new, but since Tony hadn't been living here that long anyway, that was okay.

Tony showed up in the door of the utility room.

"Mister Dahler?"

One look at Tony told me he was feeling a little lost and insecure. Well, I had neglected to reassure him in the car.

"Come here," I told him, holding my arms out to him.

I held him for at least a couple of minutes before he spoke.

"Did I ruin everything?" Tony asked in a low voice.

"No, baby. Not at all."

"Do you still want me?"

Ah. So that was what this was about. It could just as easily have been the 'fight'.

Instead of answering, I tilted his head up so I could look in his eyes, then leaned down and gave him our first real, but still closed-mouth kiss. He was hesitant and awkward, but willing.

When I broke it off, Tony had a beatific shy smile on his face, and kind of hummed as he laid his head on my chest.

  "Does that answer your question?"

His hand  wandered down past my stomach and found my crotch. What he found there did answer his question, although he had to have felt it pressed up against him when we hugged.

I removed his hand when it lingered too long. "Not until those papers are signed and we're out of here," I said softly.

He wrinkled his nose at me, and winced.

"Besides, you can't even call me 'Jack', yet," I teased. But I hadn't missed his wince.

"Why don't you go watch some tv. I'll get an ice pack for that eye, and fix you a snack."

"I've still got blood all over me," Tony realized out loud.

"Well, since we're doing laundry anyway, do you have anything up in your room that needs doing?"

Tony nodded while trying to take his shirt off. With that cracked rib I knew he had to be in pain, so I started helping him undress – and very deliberately ignored the tent in his pants. Of course since he wasn't wearing underwear, when I helped him get his pants off it was more or less staring me in the face. Tony was blushing, so I gently stroked it a couple of times to reassure him I still liked it, kissed his forehead as I stood up, and then turned to put  his dirty clothes in the washer.

"I'll bring down my bathrobe for you until yours is dry," I told him.

After making sure Tony was as comfortable as possible, I proceeded to finish the laundry, and then started supper – a pork roast with onions, potatoes and carrots. Considering the fact that it had been about eight years since the last time I'd done more than fry something up, it didn't turn out half bad.

The next day I told Tony that I was going to try talking to his father again, and if it worked it might take me a few hours before I got home again. I was 'lucky' enough to find Johnson at home rather than having to hunt him down in the fields.

"Look, Johnson," I said when he started being stubborn again, "you've already told Tony that you don't want him to ever come back home, so what's your problem with giving me guardianship?"

I could see by his expression that he was struggling to find some sort of excuse, but failing. Finally he said, "Don't need no reason. Wife don't want me to." Evidently he had already forgotten that his wife wanted to sign the papers.

"She's already agreed," I reminded him.

"You want me to give up my own flesh and blood?" Johnson said, changing tactics.

"You already said he was no son of yours – and that you didn't want to see him again," I countered.

"I ain't—"

"Look," I said, interrupting, "you sign those papers, and I'll try to make sure the new owners renew your lease."

Johnson frowned at the wall, looking thoughtful. Finally he looked at me.

"Ain't enough," he said.

"What else do you want?" I asked, drawing on my rudimentary acting skills and sounding frustrated. But I had a good idea. However, he had to suggest it. If I did, I'd be in too weak a position. He did.

"Maybe a little green?" he 'hinted'.

I frowned at him. I was prepared to shell out some dough, but I couldn't help but take a dig at him. "You want me to buy your son? Isn't that slavery?"

"'T'ain't no such thing," he protested. "Just you payin' me for the work I'm losin' from the boy."

I frowned doubtfully, as he'd expect me to. "So how much do you figure his work is worth?"

"Well, he's got a lotta growin' t'do, and I'da had him 'bout 'nuther five years or more . . . ."

"How much, Johnson?"

"Ten thousand?"

I pretended to be shocked. "You've got to be kidding me!" I exclaimed.

"That ain't nuthin' to you!" he claimed.

"It sure isn't pocket change," I retorted angrily.

"That's it, though," Johnson said stubbornly. "Take it or leave it."

"And what'll you do with Tony if I decide to leave it?"

He looked at me shrewdly. "You ain't gonna though, are you," he said confidently.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "But you don't get a dime until those papers are signed," I said as though in grudging capitulation. Inwardly, I was cheering.

"Half now," he bargained.

"No. Half before you sign and half after, but only when we're there." It was a calculated risk, but I figured he'd be used to not being trusted, if he really was making drugs.

It was plain that Johnson wasn't happy with that deal, but finally he said, "Done."

"Let's go," I said, standing.

"What – now?"

"The papers have been drawn up for a week. All they need is the signatures."

He glowered at me, then shouted, "Josey! Git yur butt in the truck!"

He needn't have bothered shouting. She'd been standing in the door to the kitchen for quite some time. She disappeared for a few seconds, then showed up again carrying her purse.

The whole deal went off without a hitch. I wrote out two checks for 'services rendered', but didn't sign the second one until after all the signatures were on the papers, and the lawyer had done everything he needed to do.

The Johnsons left before I did, because I wanted a few more words with the lawyer – some reassurances and some idea of what to expect next.

Josey Johnson was sitting on the street curb when I left his office, Ed and the pickup nowhere in sight. She'd been decent to me, if not friendly, so I asked, "Do you need a ride?"

Tears were slowly sliding down her face as she looked up at me. "He's left," she announced.

"Yeah, I can see that," I replied, wondering why that would have her crying. I soon found out.

"No. He's done taken those checks and gone to cash 'em out. Gonna pack some clothes and head for Vegas, he said. Get rich and get himself shut of me and the kids, he said," she explained.

"He's abandoned you and your family?"

She nodded.

The pickup, with Ed Johnson in it, was just pulling out onto the road as we approached the driveway. Josey leaned out the window and screamed curses and imprecations at him. He flipped her off, and made a short 'chicken run' at me before pulling back into his lane, laughing. One lone suitcase could be seen in the back of the truck.

"Think you and your other kids can keep farming?" I asked her.

She shrugged, all the fight gone out of her. "Eldest two can, prob'ly."

"That's good," I said. The minute or two until I dropped her off at the tenant house were awkward ones. I couldn't think of anything else to say. Not but what the whole day hadn't been pretty awkward up 'til now, anyway.

As soon as I got home, I got in touch with the real estate agent and had him put the place on the market at a value of two thousand dollars an acre, but told him to take any offer above eighteen hundred dollars an acre. I figured the water on the property alone was worth two thousand an acre above the base price of sixteen hundred.

Three days later Josey got word that Ed's pickup had slid off some black ice into a ravine while crossing the Rocky Mountains. He was in a coma, and not expected to live. Tony wept silently in my arms for a little while after he got the news, but Ed had never been a good father to him, so within a few days he seemed to be pretty much back to normal.

A week after we heard the news of Johnson's accident I got the official – and legal! – certificate of guardianship from the courthouse, along with a copy of Tony's birth certificate.

That same week, we heard that Johnson died. Mrs Johnson had his body cremated to save on shipping costs, then scattered his ashes over the city dump when they arrived. Bitter, much? But I also saw her and her other kids wearing better clothes, so I assumed she'd got the money as well as his ashes.

Tony slept with me more often than he had before that, although sex was rarely involved. When there was sex, it was mostly jerking each other off, although I swallowed his load once in awhile. Tony seemed to be slowly working up to doing the same for me, finally commited himself to it just a week before we left, and seemed very pleased with himself afterwards.

Once the new roof was installed on the main house and the repairs to the outbuildings were done. I packed everything up to go that I wanted to take with me – including Tony – and shipped a few choice pieces of furniture from the house out west, too. I'd decided on Seattle, Washington. I'd heard it was a pretty gay-friendly area.

By that time Tony's bruises and rib had healed, and his father's death had retreated enough in Tony's mind so the trip was a lot more fun for him than it could have been.

o~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~o

o~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~o

Betas: Dawn B., Sheree S., Ishe-chan