Cabbage Patch

Waddie Lovejoy was five years old when the second World War was over. Bells and sirens were going off everywhere. He remembered being taken to the town park where everyone was crying and hugging each other. Waddie heard church bells sounding, sirens screaming, people shooting guns, car horns honking and someone was blowing a bugle. There was food, fireworks, music and dancing, but what he remembered most was the ice cream. It was the first time he’d ever eaten ice cream and he decided right away it was his favorite food. He didn’t know what all the hubbub was about, he had no idea what war was or why it was over.

He heard two of his uncles and an aunt would be coming home from the service. He didn’t know what ‘the service’ was, but he was happy they were coming home. If it meant more ice cream for him, he could only hope he had several more aunts and uncles who might be coming home soon. It was a wonderful day for everyone. Waddie was hugged and kissed a lot that day. He wasn’t sure why but it seemed everyone wanted to hold and pet him. That was all right with him. It usually meant another dish of ice cream from someone who just couldn’t eat another bite. Waddie sure as hell could.

Everyone remarked what a good looking, cute kid he was. He had a natural dimple in his little, square chin and platinum blond hair. He had the deepest blue eyes, the color of fine lapis, a twinkle in his eye and a smile that said, ‘Aww, go on, you know you wanna’ love me.’ However, he met his match;— literally. His Uncle Buck came home from the war and hadn’t put him down more than a handful of times in the two weeks since he’d been home. The day after he met his nephew he went out and bought him a cowboy hat of his own just like his. Waddie looked like he belonged in his uncle’s big arms. A huge cowboy and a little cowboy. Everyone started calling Waddie, ‘little Buck.’ Waddie loved that. He’d fallen hopelessly in love with the big cowboy who held him.

Waddie grew tired of the excitement and was satisfied to curl up in his big cowboy buddy’s arms and go to sleep as the crowd watched fireworks that evening. Waddie just got out of the hospital. He almost died from abuse and neglect. He was still gaining his strength back and tired easily. He was currently living with his big uncle because things were not going well for him in his regular home.

Waddie’s buddy, Buckley Livingstone Claymore, was a young, twenty five year old man who was the epitome of a West Texas cowboy. Buck and Waddie’s dad, Morgan Stanley Lovejoy, were best buds. They were the same age, and grew up being inseparable friends. The town folk thought of them as a set of bookends. Wherever you found Buck, you could bet Morgan was nearby. Even though they weren’t blood relations, Waddie was told to call the big cowboy ‘Uncle Buck’ because he and Waddie’s dad were as close as brothers.

They certainly didn’t look like brothers. Morgan was slightly taller than Buck but not nearly as big physically. While both men had the bodies of athletes, Morgan had a more even spread of muscles. He was half Cajun and half American Indian. His dark olive, ruddy, complection was strikingly set off by his coal black hair and piercing steel grey eyes. He always wore his hair in a short brush cut. Morgan was intelligent, mostly peaceful, easy going, considerate, with a quick wit and well developed sense of humor. He was capable of great love and loyalty.

Buck wasn’t a small man by any means and outweighed Morgan a good thirty pounds. Buck had the body of a bull and a neck to match. When he got mad his nares flared and Buck looked like a bull; to say nothing of what lay warm between his massive thighs. He had a fair complection and platinum blond hair. Buck had a big, well defined, square jawed face that made him look like a poster child for the Marine Corps. He had a dimple in his chin so pronounced, it was hard for him to shave without cutting himself. His deep blue eyes twinkled with mischief. “He has the devil in him.” many folks were heard to say as they laughed about something outrageously funny Buck said or did. He was warm, affectionate, compassionate, honest to a fault, without a mean bone in his body. He was slow to anger but never backed down from a confrontation. They each lettered every year in high school in football, baseball, and basket ball. They even won all four years in team roping competition in the all state high school rodeo. The first day of grade school Morgan walked up to Buck, looked him up and down, then spoke to him.

“You’ll do.”

“Do what?” Buck asked.

“. . . to be my buddy, my friend. My dad says ever' kid needs a best buddy, a best friend, and I want chu.'”

They were the biggest two boys in the class, and it made sense to Morgan they should be buddies. Besides, he thought Buck was the best looking kid he ever saw. Buck looked Morgan up and down, decided the same thing and thought, ‘Humm, . . . this good looking boy could have any kid here for a buddy, but he wants me? Bet chore’ ass I’ll be yore’ buddy!’

“Be proud to be your buddy, . . . name's Buck, . . . . Buck Claymore.” Buck said sticking out his hand. Morgan took it and looked into his eyes.

“I’m Morgan. Morgan Lovejoy, buddy. Proud to be your buddy, too.” That was the start of a friendship that lasted over sixty years.

School work was easy for Morgan. He was one of two top students in his class. Learning was more difficult for Buck; not because he was dumb or slow to learn. He had trouble focusing his mind for a given period to learn what needed to be learned. Morgan made quick work of taking Buck under his wing, setting him down and teaching him how to study. He taught him how and what to learn and to do it in the least amount of time. Time was set aside for study every evening, and that’s what they did. It helped Buck to be taught to keep a regular schedule. He worshiped and adored Morgan for teaching him and demanding he learn how to focus. After one year of being Morgan’s running buddy, Buck’s grades were in the top two or three of his class. He was thrilled. Morgan was proud of him and Buck’s parents saw their relationship as a benefit to both; so did Morgan’s. Teaching Buck and being forced to know the subjects a little better to lead his buddy meant his test scores improved as well.

They became inseparable friends. Their families never worried where the boys were. They were either at Buck or Morgan's house. Usually they would be helping one or both their dads with chores around the ranches. After a while, there was rarely any phoning to ask if Morgan could stay over or if Buck could stay over. The boys evenly divided their time between homes. The menu for the evening meal was usually the deciding factor.

Their mothers gave up buying separately for the boys. Several times a year they would go shopping together and bought enough clothes for both. They couldn’t get the boys to go along so they bought them what they thought they might like. If it was simple with no frills, it got worn a lot. If it was too flashy, colorful or called attention to them, it sat in the bottom of the drawer. Buck and Morgan didn’t much care what they wore, as long as there was clean clothes in the drawer. They wore each other’s clothes. Whatever was left at one house was washed and put away, and so it was at the other’s house. If clothes got overbalanced at one house, the boys were given a cardboard box of clean clothes to take to the other mother to put away.

They were all the time helping Buck’s dad on their ranch and then they’d help Morgan’s dad and granddad on theirs. Buck’s family accepted Morgan as their other son, and the Lovejoys, Morgan’s folks, loved Buck as their own. The boys were pretty exclusive with each other as friends. They went all through school together, played sports and rodeoed together; however, they never discouraged any of the other boys from being with them or playing sports together. They always had a group of eight to fifteen boys following them around who wanted to spend time with them. They were the leaders in everything in the small town. They never discouraged the younger, smaller boys from joining in and even encouraged them. They wouldn’t allow the older boys to mistreat them either.

From the beginning, Morgan and Buck had an affinity for the small, fat, clumsy, fearful, last chosen kid in school. They encouraged them, picked them for their teams and wouldn’t allow the other kids to make fun of them. The other kids began to understand the strength of giving to the weak makes everyone stronger. Everyone would join in rooting for the shy, smaller kids. Many greatly improved and became pretty fair athletes because Buck and Morgan believed in and encouraged them. They credited their two, big, best friends, Buck and Morgan, for their courage to try. It carried over into the kid’s adult lives and developed their self-confidence to become good citizens of their community. Morgan and Buck formed many strong, long lasting, good friendships on the playground that saw them in good stead with their neighbors later in life.

No one in their school ever said anything about their close friendship; not even in jest. Morgan and Buck were two big enough and mean enough, kick-ass cowboys they were treated with respect. They weren’t bullies; on the contrary, they treated everyone with the same respect. They treated the young school kids with love and respect as well. They were the first a kid would run to if they were hurt or being mistreated.

Morgan learned from Buck to always stop, take time and be genuinely interested in the least of the kid’s plights. That alone would reduce any child’s problem by half. They had two big brothers who cared about each and every one of them and would take time to listen. On the first day of school, parents would point out the two biggest, meanest looking boys on the playground to their children and tell them if they got into trouble or needed help to go to Buck or Morgan. They never failed to try to help any kid who needed them. Everyone in the community loved Buck and Morgan especially the kids. They felt safe at school with Buck and Morgan around.

There were very few kids who were picked on or mistreated while Buck and Morgan were attending school and they managed to pass their torch down to younger generations. Any kid who thought he was tough enough to bully another kid was warned twice not to do it again. God help him if he tried a third time. He never tried for a fourth. Sometimes Buck and Morgan went eye to eye with an angry parent whose kid got his butt stomped because he was a bully, but the parents of the kid who was bullied always backed them up. Usually, the bully’s parent looked at their kid in shock.

“You did that to this little kid? You’re gonna’ really get it when we get home, young man. I ain’t a’ gonna’ be raising no Goddamn bully in my home!” Then they’d shake hands with Buck and Morgan and apologize, “Sorry, Guys, I didn’t know. If you catch him do’n it again, you have my full permission to set him straight. When I see you’ve done your job, he’ll get it again when he gets home; no questions asked.”

Buck and Morgan always had a game or a rodeo going somewhere. They went hunting and fishing and were never heard to have an argument in all those years. They enjoyed each other’s company and spent most of their time together. That closeness and comradery continued most all their lives. No one in the small community ever whispered a word about the possibility that Buck and Morgan might be, . . . uhmm, . . . . you know, . . . ‘that way.’ (Of course before nineteen-fifty there was no such thing as ‘gays.’ You were just ‘shy.’)

Buck and Morgan certainly didn’t meet the definition of being ‘shy.’ Far from it, but the truth was, when they were alone, in private, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. They rarely showed any overt affection in public other than to put an arm around a shoulder while walking along in deep discussion or a hug at winning a game or rodeo; however, let them be in private for an evening, and all their clothes came off. They didn’t always fall into lustful sex. They liked to see each other’s bodies and didn’t feel shy looking at each other. They did homework together in the raw. They listened to radio in the nude. Anytime they were in their room at either house, they were usually buck-ass naked.

They each had a large bedroom on the second floor of their homes, and their parents never came to their door without announcing their presence and then waiting. They respected the boy’s privacy. During warm months the boys would sleep in their dad’s barns. Every country boy knows the freedom of sleeping on a blanket in the hay with your best bud. They found out about sex through experimentation as young boys. They did it a lot when they were small, but tapered off as they approached puberty due to lack of interest. Then after Mr. hormone dropped their testicles, their voices began to deepen, and ape turf appeared in the appropriate places, there appeared a new dawning of interest in sex.

Buck and Morgan would stand around and watch the old cowboys breed the stallions to the mares in the early fall to get summer foals. They’d watch the big male animals mount and fuck the females. Sometimes the stud would get over anxious and have difficulty finding the mare’s cunt. One of the old cowboys would grab the big stallion by his dick and guide him into her. Buck and Morgan wondered why all the old cowboys, their dads and granddads had large wet spots at the crotch in their levis; why most of them would rub their penises which grew stiff in their pants? They could see them hard and outlined through the stretched fabric. The cowboys would get into the spirit of urging the stallion on.

“He’s git’n ‘ner really good this time, Johnny! Wow, look at the son of a bitch fuck 'er. You know damn well she’s gotta’ be enjoy’n ‘nat. Watch her, see, . . . see how she keeps backing up to him, . . . . beg’n ‘em for more. Damned, if she ain’t a whore. ‘At’s it, girl! Put it up there for that stud; shake that tail in his face; let him know how bad you want it. You know you want his baby. Don’t be shy girl, back right up there to 'em; take him. ‘At’s it, ‘atta girl! Take that big, horse dick deep in yore’ big pussy. ‘At’s it, ‘at’s it, girl! Holy fuck, look at that stud go. J’ever seen a stud fuck a mare like that, Johnny?”

Many of the men would ejaculate in their pants watching the big animals mating. No man in the community missed the couple of evenings the horses were bred. It was like a private, men only, sex show. It was never spoken of in those terms, but they all knew; they all felt the strong sexual draw. For each man it was like re-living his own particular rite of passage in the fury and eroticism of the huge animal's rut. None were exempt from the raw sexual draw. Buck and Morgan wouldn’t have missed it for the world. After they reached puberty they understood why the wet spots appeared in all the men’s levis. It appeared in theirs about the age of eleven. From then on, sex took on a new dimension. After watching and listening for several hours to dirty, filthy, wonderful cowboy sexual talk disguised in the form of urging the stallions on, they’d go back to their barn and play 'stallion and mare.' At first they fought each other tooth and nail over who was going to play the stallion. After a while they’d fight tooth and nail to see who was going to play the mare.

“Goddamn it, Buck! You got to be the mare last time. It’s my turn. Besides, your ole dick is about the right size to be a stallion. Come on Buck, . . . have a heart, . . . . don’t chu’ want me to have your foal come summer?”

Both men would be rolling in the hay with laughter, and that would finally do it for Buck to give in to his buddy, Morgan. They would imitate the exact way the stallions fucked the mares. They watched closely and memorized every violent thrust. They spoke detailed descriptions back and forth to each other. From the rough mounting to the immediate onset of rough, animal like rutting. The man playing the part of the mare would usually create the same running dialog they heard from the old cowboys.

“Goddamn, Buck!” Morgan would start the dialog after Buck slammed his big piece of fat, cowboy dick to the hilt in Morgan’s ass, “Did ju’ see the way that stud took her? C’mon, stud, don’t be shy. Plant that big horse dick deep in her pussy. Make her feel it, stud, . . . see, look at her! Look at her back that ass up for that stud to get deeper in a’ her.” Morgan would put his ass up and back up to meet Buck’s hard thrusts. “See, she wants it. She’s a fucking whore, Buck, . . . look at her! Look how much she’s enjoying that stud’s big horse cock. Damn! ‘At’s one of the finest studs we got. He ain’t never failed to make them mares want more. Look at him open her up. Damnation! Wow! Go for it, stud! She wants yore’ baby. Make sure she gets it. C’mon, stud. She wants your baby, stud. Awww, damn, . . . he’s really fuck’n her cunt good, Buck. Shoot that big horse load up her hot pussy, stud!

Forget the mare, Buck! Your buddy, Morgan, wants your baby, stud! He wants it bad! Make me pregnant, you big, horse dicked son of a bitch. C’mon, cowboy, ride you buddy’s ass down hard. Slap some leather, buckaroo. Spur your cayuse hard in the flank, Buck. To hell with them kindness rowels, make your buddy give you the best ride. You love me don’cha, cowboy? Don’cha, Buck? I’ll give you a Goddamn foal or a son, whatever you want, Buck! Just fuck me harder, cowboy! C’ mon Buck, you can fuck me harder’n ‘nat. You done it afore, hoss. Oh, damn, fucker! Now you’re gettin’ it! Yeah! Now, . . . ‘at’s some good fuck’n right there, stud. Oh, yeah! Fuck it good, buddy!

I can’t hold out much longer, . . . a minute, . . . . no, make that, . . . awwww, Goddaaammn, stud! I feel it shooting deep inside me. My horse pussy’s trying to bite chore’ stud dick off inside a’ her. Goddamn it! Fuck me, stud! ‘At’s it! ‘At’s it! Now you’re busting her cunt, stud! Get it goooood, Buck! Fill me up, Buck! Gimme’ all you got, sweet baby! Oh, oh, . . . damnation! That be good! That be better’n good, Buck. That be fuck’n fantastic! Oh! Oh! Oh! Ooooooh! Shiiiiit! I feel it, Buck, emptying your horse dick into me, cowboy. Oh, shit, hell, damn, fuck! Yore’ mare’s catching your seed, stud, . . . yore’ hot, horse come. Keep pumping it in my gut you hot, fucking son of a bitch! I need it all, Buck! Don’t cheat your bud, darlin.’ You want ‘tat baby, you gotta’ fill me up, stud. Aaww, . . . daammnn, . . . . you’re filling me up, Buck. I can feel it! ‘At’s good! ‘At’s good! I was a quart low, anyway. Damn, you fucked me good, stud. Fucked the snot right out ‘a me! Oh, hell, . . . you know its gotta’ be a pretty baby, Buck!”

Buck would nail Morgan’s ass to the blanket on the hay bail. They were more gentle when they first discovered anal sex, but now they both liked raw, rutting, butt busting, animal sex. The harder the better and the one playing the stallion always made sure his mare shot with him or he’d fuck her until she did. Then they would fall together in exhaustion, kissing, complementing each other how good they played their part, what the foal or child would look like, and most of all how much they loved each other. One hot summer night as the boys were about to go to sleep in each other’s arms Buck got thoughtful.

“Morgan, . . . do you think having sex with each other makes us queer?”

“Do you feel queer when we have sex?” Morgan asked.

“Aww, hell, no! I feel loved and feel like I give you love. I’d like to see any queer take it up the ass the way we do.”

They punched and giggled with each other.

“Do you have feelings for other men?” Morgan asked.

“Do you?” Buck shot back.

“Yeah, once in a while, but I sure as hell wouldn’t do nothing about it. Besides, I wanna’ save it for my buddy. What if you needed your itch scratched and I’d all ready used my itch scratcher up?”

“Yeah, me, too. Once in a while I’ll see some dude, like old Quinton, I think might be fun to lay down with and then I think about my buddy who gives me more’n I probably need anyway and it goes away.” Buck allowed.

“Why’d ‘ju ask?” Morgan asked in a concerned voice, “You have’n problems? You wanna’ quit? I’d miss it, but I’d respect your wishes. I wouldn’t stop loving you none, neither. You might have to let me suck you off once in a while until you weaned me.” Morgan said with a straight face. Buck roared with laugher.

“Until I WHAT?” Buck continued laughing, “Until I weaned you?” He started tickling Morgan until they got aroused again and spent half the night making man love to each other. After they settled down again, Buck gently kissed Morgan.

“If I’m gonna’ wean you, who the hell’s gonna’ wean me? I can’t get enough of you now. I sit in class and start remembering how good your come tastes, the flavor of your butt hole, and I pop a boner ever time. My mouth starts a’ watering and I have ta’ keep swallowing to keep from look’n like a Goddamn idiot with drool running down the corners of my mouth. My old dick starts dripping so’s I can’t get up from study hall when the bell rings. Don’t go git’n no stupid idea in your head I wanna’ stop. J’ever watch a drug addict go cold turkey?”

“Naw.” replied Morgan.

“S’not pretty. You wouldn’t wanna' see it. Well, ‘at’s how I’d be if’n you was ta’ cut me off. Fuck it, Morgan, if’n it’s queer to love you and do what we do, then I’m a fucking queer. My love for you ain’t gonna’ stop me from marrying and having kids. Hell, we’ll always have each other. Maybe not on the same level, but we’ll find time to be by ourselves. Hunting, fishing, making like we’s out getting drunk together, . . . all the while playing hide the little green snake.”

“I wanna’ have a family, too.” said Morgan, “I love kids and want a son of my own. I hope he’s just like you, Buck. I pray he’ll have the same qualities you got. ‘At’s more’n I could ask for in a kid, but chore’ right, we’ll always have each other. No one will come between us. You know, my brother, . . . anytime you ever need a stallion or a mare, I’ll be there for you.” Buck got tears in his eyes from Morgan’s words of love.

“Shit, Morgan! Ain’t nobody ever loved me as much as you do. Can’t say’s I’ve ever love another body the way I love you, neither. I don’t think it’s queer. I sure as hell think it’s special, and I know it’ll last our lifetime. Same goes for me, brother. If’n you’re ole twat gets a’ twitching for a stallion, all ya’ gotta’ do is whinny. You do know how to whinny, don’cha?” Buck giggled. “If’n you’re feeling like a randy, young stallion what needs to make a filly foal, and you come a’ snort’n ‘round my flanks sniffin’ my hole to see if’n I’m receptive, I promise, with this old whore of a mare you won’t have to sniff too much.” Buck laughed at his own joke. “I’d be right proud to have you mount me and catch your stallion’s seed, cowboy, anytime, day or night. I’ll be backing my old mare’s cunt right up to that hot cowboy-stud’s dick what be fucking me.

They call them mares down to the rodeo grounds whores when they look like they’s enjoying the stud fucking them. I never understood why they call her a whore or a slut just ‘cause she seems to enjoy gettin’ fucked? Hell, them poor bastards ain’t never seen they’selves no whore ‘til old Buck gives it up to his buddy, Morgan. Now, if’n they want’s to see they’selves a whore, we’ll show ‘em son's a’ bitches a real whore, won’t we, bubba?” Buck exclaimed. They both rolled around in the hay laughing their ass’s off.

“Goddamn it, Buck!” Morgan said laughing, “If you don’t stop we ain’t gonna’ get a lick a’ sleep tonight, and you know yore’ daddy wants us to help him get the rest of that hay in tomorrow. Now, kiss me, throw your arms around me, and let's us get some sleep.”

The two young men gently kissed. Buck got into the spoon position behind Morgan and had his arms around him. They lay quiet for several minutes.

“That better not be what I think it is a’ knocking at my back door, cowboy.” Morgan said sternly. Buck rolled on his back in gales of laughter. Morgan didn’t want to encourage him because he could be as weak as Buck. He lay on his side trying not to let Buck see he was about to bust a gut laughing himself. Buck rolled back and grabbed him even tighter and kissed him on the neck.

“Morgan?”

“Yeah, sweet baby?”

“I love you.”

“No more’n I love you, Bubba.”

It was that night the two boys began to look at life, their relationship, and their future as young men. They agreed and understood their need and love for each other. They refused to deny it even though they knew their lives would inevitably change. Their graduation from high school was less than a year away and they knew they’d be going off to war. Buck and Morgan went to enlist. Buck lied about his age and enlisted at the age of seventeen. He wouldn’t be eighteen until that August after he graduated from high school. Because he was a big man he got away with it. Morgan was all ready eighteen. Buck was taken but Morgan was rejected because he had flat feet. Morgan never knew he had flat feet and never understood why it would keep him from fighting for his country.

Buck fought in two European campaigns and was on Iwo Jima. He led a charge into a Japanese pill box nest with five other men who turned the tide for the Americans in the battle for that island. Buck was with the men raising the flag on Mount Surabachi in the famous picture that appeared in Life magazine. They made a bronze statue of that picture. He was shot up so badly on Iwo Jima they sent him home; however, as bad as his wounds were he managed to drag, pull, and carry to safety four of the five men who went with him on the charge. Buck was awarded every medal for heroism our country had to offer and several purple hearts. He and Audey Murphy were good friends. Buck was the second highest decorated soldier in World War Two. Buck came home two weeks before the war was over. He was a returning hero and everyone loved him. He could do no wrong and his best buddy cried like a baby in his friend’s arms to have him home again. Buck cried with him at the ecstacy, relief, and joy of holding his beloved cowboy brother in his arms again.

Shortly after Buck left for the war Morgan met an older woman he fell in love with who had two kids when he married her; a boy, ten and a girl of twelve. Waddie Lovejoy came along that first year of their marriage. Waddie was born about nine months after Buck left for the war. The name 'Waddie' was a Western slang term for 'cowboy.' A 'waddie' was a cowboy. A 'top Waddie' was a foreman or ramrod on a ranch. (Not to be confused by the word 'waddy' which meant an arroyo or creek in Spanish) Morgan wrote Buck and told him about his new fair haired son with the prettiest blue eyes. He sent him a small photo Buck carried in his pocket for good luck all the time he was in combat. Morgan even gave his boy Buck’s last name as a middle name, Waddie Claymore Lovejoy.

Morgan took his brother, Buck, to the hospital to meet his new nephew when he returned home from the war. This huge man, capable of such unspeakable violence, who, against the better angels of his nature killed unknown numbers of men to protect his family, town, and way of life knew no boundaries of gentleness as he took the small man-child into his big cowboy arms for the first time. Buck took one look at his namesake and his face became one big uncontrollable grin. Someone remarked, “He was a’ grinning like a possum eat’n a pile a’ cat shit.”

Waddie Claymore Lovejoy awoke in his hospital bed to see a big cowboy enter his room in a flourish like Texas tornado; he was looking for someone or something. A smile as wide as the lone star state came across his handsome face and Waddie smiled the sweetest smile back at the big cowboy. He knew he was his Uncle Buck his dad told him so much about. He held out his tiny arms for Buck to take him. At that moment, one of the greatest loves the world has ever known, between two men, was born. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind who witnessed their exchange, their two souls merged as one.

Then, . . . they were three. Wherever you found, Morgan or Buck, their shadow, their will-o-the-wisp, their puck, their cowboy, their Waddie, was always close. Buck used one big arm as a perch for the boy’s butt and held him steady with the other as he looked searchingly into the two pools of the child’s liquid blue eyes. He saw the same flash of mischief in Waddie’s eyes he was said to have himself.

“Hey, little buddy!” he spoke softly, “So you’re Uncle Buck’s new nephew. Damned, if you ain’t prettier’n a speckled pup. You got the cutest little dimple in your chin there. Hell, Son, yore’ daddy couldn’t a’ made ju’ no finer looking.”

“Howdy, Uncle Buck. Damn, you’re big.” The toe-headed kid exclaimed to the delight of the big cowboy holding him. Buck threw back his handsome head and laughed.

“Waddie! Y’ain’t suppose to say ‘damn.’” reminded his grandma.

“Well, hell! He’s right, Momma, Buck is a damn big man.” his dad came to Waddie’s defense. Everyone laughed.

“Are you gonna’ be my buddy, Uncle Buck?” Buck Claymore hugged the boy tight, bussed a kiss behind his ear. How could he say ‘no’ to the beautiful little boy in his arms?

“Of course I’ll be your buddy, little one, count on it. Take it to the bank; ‘at’s the only reason I come home from the war, because I heard a rumor they’s a fine look’n little buckaroo what needs hisself a buddy. I’ll be yore’ buddy until I take my last breath, cowboy.”

“Well, ‘at’s good, ‘cause I’m gonna’ need somebody to rodeo with.”

Everyone thought that was cute, but Waddie was serious. He’d been to enough rodeos, he knew that was what he wanted to be. He wanted to be a rodeo cowboy like his dad and Uncle Buck. Waddie reached up to touch Buck’s huge, wide brimmed, felt cowboy hat. His dad scolded him.

“Waddie! You don’t never touch a cowboy’s hat. That’s just not done. It’s bad manners, Son.”

“Awww, hell, Morgan! Leave ‘em be. My buddy kin touch my hat any Goddamn time he wants to. Here, darlin’, you wanna’ wear ole Uncle Buck’s hat, you can.” Buck put his size nine and a half hat on the small boy and it fell down around his face. Everyone laughed.

“Here, lemme’ adjust it for you, sweet baby.” Buck pushed the brim back so Waddie’s handsome little face could be seen framed in his buddy’s huge hat. “Damned, if you don’t look like a buckaroo, Son.” Buck allowed. “Yore’ buddy will git chu’ one first thing tomorrow that’ll fit your pretty little cowboy head. Would ju’ like that?”

“Oh, yes, Sir!” the boy smiled real big, “I love you, Uncle Buck.”

“Oh, sweet baby, them be the sweetest words this cowboy’s ever heard. Your Uncle Buck shore’ as hell loves you, too.”

* * * * * * *

A week after Buck got back from the war, the following Sunday afternoon, Buck went with Morgan, his wife Judy, Buck and Morgan’s parents to their small church to have the installation of Buck as Waddie’s Godfather. It was to be a small informal, family only, service. The whole damn town turned out. The church was packed. Everyone brought food and drink, and afterwards, there was a picnic in the park in celebration. Buck was installed as Waddie’s Godfather. Waddie and Buck were baptized at the same service.

Buck didn’t marry until about a year after he came back from the war. He married his high school sweetheart, Linda Sue Davenport. Morgan was his best man and six year old Waddie Claymore Lovejoy, Buck’s Godson, was his ring bearer. Buck wanted a son in the worst way, but a couple of years after they were married, they found out Linda Sue couldn’t have kids. Buck was too much in love with Linda Sue to consider divorcing her to marry another woman just so he could have kids. They considered adoption but couldn’t go through with it. Buck told his best friend,

“If’n I can’t have a kid from my seed then I just ain’t gonna’ have no kids. What the hell, . . . I’ll just share yours with you. We’ve shared everything else all these years. Waddie looks more like me’n he does you anyway.”

“Well, hell, Buck! You’re his damn Godfather for cries sake. I think that speaks for itself.”

“You know, Morgan, . . . of all the good things you ever done for me over the years, and it’s a lot, ‘at’s the best damn thing you ever done. I love you for that, brother.”

The two big men hugged, slapped each other on the back and took another pull on a hip flask of Southern Comfort Buck always carried on him. Morgan Lovejoy would’ve shared anything he owned with his brother, including his son. Even though Waddie was told to call Buck his uncle, as time passed he began to think of him more as his second dad. It wasn’t all by generosity or brotherly love Morgan saw to it Buck was Waddie’s Godfather. There was method in his madness.

Buck tried his damnedest not to monopolize the kid, but he just couldn’t turn the child away when he found his way to his arms. He tried hard not to spoil the kid, but it became increasingly difficult. Buck heard stories from Waddie and the community he had a hard time believing. Waddie's life up to the time Buck came home from the war must have been awful. He never had a birthday party and never got anything from Santa Clause. These stories plus Waddie's innate charm made Buck decide, since he didn’t even have one kid to spoil, spoiling Morgan’s a little bit wasn’t going to do that much harm.

After Buck's return he and Linda Sue made sure their Godson had birthdays and was always included in Christmas. Waddie got the best presents for Christmas and his birthday from his Aunt Linda and Uncle Buck. He spent almost as much time with them as he did at home. It was just as well. He wasn’t too happy at home except for his dad. He loved Morgan.

Morgan founded an automobile repair shop with Buck’s cousin Joe Stewart. Buck ran for sheriff of the county when he was only twenty-seven. Buck won and replaced the old sheriff who was known by everyone to be corrupt. Buck beat him easily in five other elections. Finally, he got re-elected every election after that because no one would run against him. They wouldn’t have won if they did.

Waddie didn’t know much about sex until his Uncle Buck had long talks with him about where he came from. Of course, Buck got Morgan’s permission first, and being his dad, Morgan didn’t want the job. His Uncle Buck swore on an oath he would never lie to his Godson about anything he asked him. Buck talked to Waddie by the hour. He even drew pictures. Buck told Waddie if he forgot and ever wanted to ask again, he was welcome to. When Waddie would ask his dad something about sex he’d smile and say,

“Gotta’ take that up with your other dad, Son. That’s his department, and he’s doing a fine job, too; damn fine.”

Even though his uncle explained carefully, Waddie wasn’t real sure he understood it all. His Uncle Buck straightened him out about one story. He assured Waddie he wasn’t found in the garden under a cabbage leaf. Waddie’s ma told him that. He started to not trust his ma after he found out she lied to him. If she lied to him about that, what else would she lie to him about? After hearing in lurid detail about the biological process it takes to produce a baby, Waddie thought if he had his druthers, he’d rather have been found under a cabbage leaf.

Uncle Buck and his dad constantly impressed on him the value of telling the truth. He believed every word they told him and always told the truth. Waddie was included in Buck and Morgan’s relationship. He tagged along after them everywhere they went. As time went by the boy began to see a deep relationship between his dad and his Uncle Buck no one would notice unless you were around them a lot and knew the two of them well. Kids pick up on things quicker than adults give them credit for and Waddie was no exception. He knew there was something different about the two men’s relationship, but he didn’t understand why. It didn’t really matter to him much, . . . hell, . . . . he was loved and included by two of the most powerful men in the community.

Sometimes they’d be off by themselves, they’d hold each other and kiss like he’d seen men do with women. Waddie never thought it was unusual because they always included him. After they kissed each other, they’d grab him up and kiss him, too; right on the mouth. He knew that was part of two people loving each other, so he never asked them about it. He just learned to expect it. It never bothered Waddie, but he knew his dad and Buck’s relationship went beyond anything he’d witnessed between two brothers. It wasn’t overt, but it was there. They had a deep respect and love for each other like they had something in common. It was like they shared the same secret.

It certainly wasn’t like anything Waddie had with his older brother, Willie. His older brother rejected him completely and wanted nothing to do with him. It hurt the boy a lot because his brother was so cold and unkind to him. His two dads told him once, if a man had a close buddy they sometimes expressed their love to each other by hugging or kissing in private but never in public. Waddie was confused because Uncle Buck was his buddy, and he was all the time kissing him in public. He figured it had something to do with age. Uncle Buck confirmed it for him.

“'At's right, Son. As you get older it’ll be less appropriate for me to kiss you in public. Until then, . . . yore’ old Uncle’s gonna’ steal every damn kiss he can from his buddy; what say?”

“I like you stealing my kisses, Uncle Buck. I save ‘em up for you to steal. Ain’t nobody can steal a kiss like you can, but one of these days I’m gonna’ catch your ass, lock you in my jail, and throw away the damn key.” Buck was laughing his ass off. He knew he was being set up but just had to bite.

“Okay, cowboy, where’s your jail?”

“In my heart, Uncle Buck. I’m gonna’ make you give every damn one of them kisses back, and then we’ll talk parole.” Buck started to laugh, stopped, hugged Waddie to him and feigned seriousness.

“Arrest me, cowboy, I’m a’ turning myself in right now.” Then they both fell out laughing.

Morgan and Buck would almost always take Waddie hunting or fishing with them. Besides, Buck wouldn’t let Morgan leave Waddie behind for a second. He was Buck’s namesake, his Godson. Buck doted on his Godson and took his job as Godfather seriously.

Waddie got use to them taking off for a while by themselves to take a walk, they called it. Waddie thought they were going to have a pull off Buck’s metal hip flask he always carried. When they came back they’d both be laughing, relaxed, in a happy mood and have Southern Comfort on their breath. Waddie never minded they took off by themselves. He loved them both. He would’ve hated to have to choose between them. They never put him in that position. They were comfortable having the boy around. Their ways were slowly becoming his ways, and he fit right in.

One afternoon in the late summer after his Uncle Buck came home from the war, Waddie’s dad and uncle took him on a weekend fishing trip on the river near their small town. It was late afternoon, and they were fishing all day. They didn’t catch much, but Waddie was a die hard fisherman and wasn’t about to give up. His dad and Uncle Buck left him to take one of their walks. Waddie saw a huge cottonwood tree up stream about fifty yards that overhung and shaded the river. He picked up his gear and headed for the tree. As he came out from behind some boulders he saw his Uncle Buck with his levis down on his boot tops, his dad on his knees in front of his uncle, his mouth engorged with his uncle’s big dick, his head going up and down like he was bobbing for apples.

His Uncle Buck looked up and saw Waddie. Waddie moved back like he was shocked to see them and didn’t understand what they were doing. Buck could whistle real loud with his two fingers to his mouth. He called Waddie to him many times that way. Waddie heard the whistle. He knew his uncle was calling him, but he felt embarrassed to go to him; not from what he saw them doing, but because, he felt he invaded their privacy. He was more afraid of being scolded. He heard his uncle give a second short whistle and knew he had to obey him. He walked out from behind the large rock and slowly walked toward the two men. His Uncle Buck pulled up his levis, returned his cock to his pants, but didn’t get his belt buckled. His dad had a funny smile on his face, but his uncle held out his hand for Waddie to come to him. Buck squatted down, took the boy’s hand, pulled him into his arms, hugged and kissed him.

Somehow, that simple gesture changed the way Waddie felt about what was going on. His Uncle Buck’s kiss told him he was welcome, not to be disturbed by what he saw and if he wanted to know what they were doing he only had to ask. What he quickly observed from the look on his uncle’s face, his dad had to be making Uncle Buck’s dick feel really good, but what was the purpose? Waddie wondered if his dad was drinking his uncle’s piss. Then it clicked in his head a term the boys he sometimes played with threw around at each other, but no one knew what it really meant.

“Is ‘zat what they call a ‘blow job,’ Uncle Buck?” Waddie quietly asked his uncle. Morgan looked at Buck and nodded to tell him the truth.

“Yes, Son, it is.”

Things were beginning to get a little clearer in Waddie’s mind as to his dad and uncle’s relationship. He didn’t think it was bad, but he knew it wasn't the norm. Didn’t look too bad to him at all. He wouldn’t push, but he was wondering if, later, he would get to be included in this game. He wouldn’t mind tasting that big dick of his uncle’s. He wasn’t sure he could get his little mouth around the head let alone suck on it. Then he thought he wouldn’t mind trying to suck his old man’s quarter pounder either. If nothing else he could dress it up in Betsy McCall clothes.

“Why do you do it?” Waddie asked his uncle.

“‘Cause we love each other, it feels good and we like the taste of the juice that comes out. Ya’ see, Son, when a boy grows into a man certain things happen to his body. He begins to produce the sperm I told you about and that’s what your dad just sucked out of me.”

“Do you give my dad blow jobs?”

“Sure do, youngster. We done it to each other for years. Ever’ since we was kids, then later when we was old enough to shoot. Ain’t nothing wrong with it between two buddies or brothers like yore’ dad and me. Ain’t nobody’s business but ours, but now you caught us, it’s your business, too.”

“You know I won’t never say nothing, Uncle Buck. I understand it’s private. That’s why I didn’t come when you called me the first time ‘cause I was embarrassed I invaded your privacy, not because I thought anything bad about what I saw.”

“Well, ‘at’s fine. We trust you and if you and one a’ yore’ little brothers you’re sure to have gits a hanker’n for each other we ain’t gonna’ say nothing and respect you men’s privacy.”

That’s all that was said about it and the three men had a wonderful afternoon; however, from that time on all barriers were dropped. They explained to Waddie their relationship and made him understand he must keep their secret because now their secret was his secret as well. They wanted to keep it a secret from him, but they weren’t mad at him for finding out. They just wanted him to know he and they had a right to privacy. What they did was their business and no one else’s.

Waddie no longer felt shy around them. He felt like he’d been included in their most intimate secret. With the naked poker parties he attended for years they taught Waddie not to be shy around grown men when naked. Waddie could feel any part of his dad or Uncle Buck he wanted as long as he asked politely. They slept together in the raw. Waddie loved it. He thought this was the way God intended for men to sleep together. It made it so much easier if he wanted to reach over and grab hold of his dad’s dick or put his Uncle Buck’s big bull prick between his little legs to keep it warm for him. Waddie became use to seeing his dad and Uncle Buck naked. He and his buddies thought nothing of it. It was something men did with each other now and then, but they didn’t advertize it or tell others. Once a man was included, one they felt comfortable enough to invite to join them, it became an unspoken bond between them.

The strangest and most wonderful time was when Waddie was about ten years old. One afternoon in late August he and his uncle went swimming on the old ‘Cowhouse Creek.’ Waddie swore he would never forget that afternoon as long as he lived. His uncle agreed he wouldn’t either. It was a turning point in their relationship and they both realized it. Buck had a small ranch in the country away from town where the creek ran through. His dad was going to be out of town for several days, many things had happened and Morgan didn’t feel comfortable leaving Waddie with his mother and step-siblings.

It was the summer of Waddie’s tenth year and he was just beginning to show signs puberty paid him a visit. It was just before something happened in Waddie’s life that changed his future forever. Morgan left him with Buck for the four days he’d be gone. They drove out to Buck’s ranch to do some much needed repairs. Waddie didn’t know how much help he could be, but he was willing to try. He do anything for his Uncle Buck. He ended up working his butt off for his buddy. Waddie did mostly clean up work, but he was a tiger at it. The only reward Waddie wanted was his uncle’s thanks and approval. When he was through, he went to see if he could help his uncle.

“I’m sorry I can’t be more help to ya,' Uncle Buck. I just don’t know too much about repairing things, yet,— but I’ve learned a hell of a lot from you today. That’ll help in the future.”

“Let chore’ old Uncle Buck tell you something, Son. It ain’t the amount of work I get out of you that’s important. It’s you being my buddy and keeping me company what’s important to me. I like having you around. You'n me, well, . . . we’s a team. We’re buddies. The times I come out here and brung you along, I got twice the amount of things done than when I come out here by myself.”

“Well, let old Waddie tell you something, Uncle Buck.” he smiled imitating his uncle down to his speech patterns hitching up his jeans in imitation of the way he'd seen is uncle do a thousand times, “God alone knows how much I love being around you.”

Buck couldn't answer. The big cowboy pulled his bandana from of his back pocket and pretended to wipe the sweat from his brow. He didn’t want his little buddy to see the tears that would soon be dropping from his leaky eyes. He finished by blowing his nose real big. Waddie knew. Buck didn’t fool him for a minute. Waddie didn’t help matters when he gently laid his hand on his uncle’s shoulder in understanding. Buck spun on his boot heel and pulled the boy into his arms, hugged Waddie to him and sobbed his heart out in the boy’s arms. Waddie soothed, petted and kissed his beloved uncle on his head as he held the big man.

“Oh, God, I love you, Waddie. I love you like you were my own son. I’ve never admitted it to a live’n soul, not even my brother, yore’ daddy, but I do Waddie. I do! I just can’t help it.”

“You don’t love me a whit more’n I love you, Uncle Buck. You’re my Godfather, ain’t cha’? That makes me your son, don’ it? I’m yore’ son, Dad. Yore’ mind won't let chore’ heart believe it yet, . . . but chu' will someday, . . . . soon. If you believe hard enough and ask God for what chu' want, . . . our angel said he’d give it to you. Ask him, Uncle Buck! Ask him and I will, too.”

“Aww fuck it, Waddie! I believe it now, Son. You know how much I love you and, damn it, I ain’t a’ gonna’ be afraid no more to tell nobody. You’n me, cowboy, . . . we been through too much crap together these last few years not for me to feel like you was my boy. I’m just afraid of hurt’n my brother. Aww, . . . well, . . . . hell! What the fuck! Let’s us quit this here working shit and have us some fun.”

It was hot that afternoon and after the tools were put away Waddie and Buck rounded up some pretty good size wild calves. Waddie would hold the calf while Buck tied a halter rope around the calf’s neck. Buck would pick Waddie up, set him on the calf and let go. Waddie would grab hold of the rope for dear life and the calf would go crazy trying to buck him off. They were having a ball until about the fifth ride the damn calf bucked Waddie off into a fresh, juicy cow pie. Waddie slowly got up with a horrible look on his face with his nose all scrunched up like the smell was terrible.

Buck tried to keep his composure and affect some sympathy for his nephew; but, as hard as he tried he couldn’t help himself. He started laughing and couldn’t stop. He finally bent over double with laughter at the look on his poor nephew's face. The big cowboy thought that was about the funniest damn thing he’d ever seen. Poor Waddie met a killer meadow muffin up close and personal. The more he laughed the worse Waddie felt, . . . until he began to see the humor in it himself.

He started laughing at Buck who was in hysterics and then laughed harder at how he must look; but, Waddie was born with a twinkle in his eye as big as his uncle’s and thought the sheriff was having a bit too much merriment at his expense. Waddie picked up the cow pie and threw it straight at Buck. Buck looked up from laughing to see why Waddie wasn’t laughing anymore just in time to feel the cow pie hit him, . . . splat, . . . . right in the middle of his big chest. His eyes opened wide. His nares flared like a bull’s. It was obvious, Buck hadn’t expected that turn of event. It was Waddie’s turn to fall on the ground laughing at his uncle covered in cowshit. He stood and pointed his finger at Buck, bending over double from laughter.

“Why you little, . . .” Buck yelled, “when I catch you I’m gonna’ turn you over my knee and spank yore’ little butt so hard you won’t be able to sit down for a week.” He could barely get the words out he was laughing so hard. Buck started running after Waddie. Waddie, took off like a scalded hound. He was running, laughing and screaming. He was fast, faster than his big bull of an uncle, but his uncle had endurance. They must have run around that arena half a dozen times. Waddie would keep the calves between him and his uncle. He’d stop, point at his uncle and fall out laughing again. It only set Buck’s jaw and made him more determined than ever to catch him. Finally, Waddie began to get tired and Buck caught him as he was about to escape over the corral fence. He started tickling Waddie and had the kid in hysterics. Waddie was wiggling and laughing calling Buck a spoil sport.

“Put me down! Put me down! You damn well better put me down, you big overgrown gorilla, if’n you know what’s good for you. Who the hell you think you are, King Kong? Well, I ain’t no Fay Wray and there ain’t no big buildin’s around these, here, parts for a couple hunner’t miles. ‘Sides, my Goddamn uncle just happens to be sheriff of this, here, county. He also happens to be my Godfather. He’ll have you horsewhipped for this. That man’s crazy about me and you don’t e— ven want that big man pissed at chu.' He’ll kick yore’ butt so far up between your shoulder blades, you’ll have to stand on your fucking head to take a shit. I’m a’ telling you, he’s a mean-ass som’ bitch. Why, I’ve seen him rip a man’s head clean off with his bare hands just so’s he could shit down his neck.” Waddie was yelling at Buck.

Buck was laughing at Waddie’s tirade so hard he had tears running down his face. Waddie went limp in his arms and stopped struggling. He was quiet like he heard the sound of a distant voice calling him. He cocked his head to one side as if listening or trying to hear something. Buck watched him closely looking into his nephew’s dirty, yet wonderfully, beautiful face. It was the face of a young, handsome cowboy who was beginning to bloom into a full grown young man. One to be reckoned with. A couple more steps, a few more days, a month, and he would no longer be a young boy. He wouldn’t be his little buddy anymore.

The boy smiled the sweetest smile and placed his small hand on Buck’s face to look deeply into his eyes. In that moment, they reached out with their love to each other and touched souls. This big man, the most powerful man in the county, second most highly decorated man in World War Two, probably the meanest, butt stomping cowboy in the state of Texas, the sheriff of his county, was stripped bare of his defenses. He knew he belonged to this beautiful, cowshit covered boy he held in his arms. He knew in his heart it was right. He also knew he owned Waddie’s soul. It was his. The boy was freely giving it to him. It was an even exchange. Was this what Waddie was talking about; believing he was his son? Waddie never lied to him, but he could say some of the strangest damn things sometime that made Buck have to stop and think.

The big man’s heart was beating so strongly in his chest he thought if he ever had a coronary this would probably be how it began. His heart was beating strongly, not from the running and chasing, but the overpowering realization that this boy meant more to him than just a buddy; he excited Buck in a way that was one of the most powerful things he ever felt in his life. He began to lower Waddie onto his big chest until the boy’s chest was on top of his, their faces closer together and, then, he felt it.

Buck felt the same strong beat from Waddie’s heart beating against his chest, and it was beating opposite Bucks. That seemed to make each of their hearts beat more pronounced against the other. Then the damnedest thing happened. As they were gazing into each other’s eyes, Waddies’s heart hiccuped, then it settled into perfect sync with Buck’s big heart. The strength of their two heart beats combined was overwhelming to them. They knew their hearts now beat as one. 'Surely this must be what Waddie was talking about,' thought Buck.

Buck opened his mouth slightly in awe of what was passing between them as they looked into each other’s eyes. It was one of those rare moments when two people know, because of their love for each other they’ve bonded as one. They share a joy that goes beyond age, gender, race or creed, even beyond description and there is no power great enough to keep them from spiraling into each other or to deny them expressing their love to one another.

Their faces seemed to be drawn to each other like light or matter to a black hole. Waddie and Buck joined mouths together with all the passion of two lovers; full mouth, devouring each other, flowing back and forth between their wells; drinking deeply, outside the continuum of time and space, in their own world of reality. They felt their hearts beating even more strongly in even sync. It felt as if their hearts were trying to get to each other. The stronger Buck’s heart beat the stronger Waddie’s heart joined with his until their souls were conjoined.

Strangely, . . . neither was shy nor afraid of the love they felt for each other. They knew it was right. Waddie knew his love for Buck was meant to be; probably more so than Buck. The universe and their love was unfolding as it should. They were only a microcosm of the greater whole but without that seemingly insignificant spark of their love as part of a greater plan, the universe quite possibly might cease to be. Neither held back as they traveled deeper into each other’s need to share a greater love; to give to each other an unquestioned love they knew they had no power but to commit to. They both realized what they were doing. They may have been placed slightly lower than God's angels in the scheme of things but they were still animals with raw primal urges which lie dormant in man’s collective subconscious. Neither, man nor boy, could’ve been classified as representative of his genus “wise ape” at that moment; however, they both could have been poster boys for 'Homo erectus.'

Was it sexual? Bet your ass it was sexual and both of them knew it. Pretty words and beautiful comparisons come to mind at a time like this; however, metaphysics, Zin, Jung and especially Freud be damned, they both wanted to fall on top of each other, roll in the dirt of the arena, rut it out like two animals in heat, down and dirty, get it all over themselves, and express their physical lust for each other until they exceeded. Buck’s David called to Waddie’s Jonathan.

“No, go further, the arrow is beyond you.”

Waddie was so ready and willing to give it to Buck, he would’ve served it up to him on Buck’s turkey platter, rodeo belt buckle if he could. He desperately wanted it, but knew in his heart it might not be good for his buddy. He wasn’t unaware of the responsibility on Buck’s part from such an action.

Waddie didn’t out-right tell him he wanted it, but he let his buddy know he was receptive if his uncle dropped the gauntlet. The way he touched Buck’s face before he kissed him. The way he gently took Buck’s hand in his. The way he looked deep into Buck’s eyes then lay his smaller head on his shoulder. Buck knew and Waddie knew, there was no doubt in either of their minds each craved to be closer to the other. Waddie was aware he was trying to seduce his uncle. He even knew what the word meant and how to spell it.

Waddie would’ve never questioned Buck. He would’ve simply given himself to him. He trusted Buck and would’ve carried the secret of their love to his grave. Waddie had grown to love Buck more and more over the years and spent almost as much time with Buck and his Aunt Linda Sue as he did at home. Morgan never seemed threatened. He encouraged their love. Waddie was old enough to know the difference between a brotherly kiss and a kiss that speaks a universal message that says, ‘Holding you this way is pleasant to me and excites me physically; however, as reasoning animals, men, created in the image of our maker, we’re given the ability to make decisions for ourselves. We have a choice. We can pursue this to climax or we can use it as a mortar to bind us even closer. One is temporary, and the other builds a foundation for a greater love and trust. Bank it, invest it, compound the interest, then reap the sweetest of dividends.’ Waddie got a roaring hard-on and so did Buck. They broke it off and Waddie lay his head on Buck’s big chest.

“God, I love you, Uncle Buck. Ain’t never had me no buddy like you. You’ll always be my bestest buddy. I’d be proud and honored to be your son if you want me, Uncle Buck.”

“You know my answer without asking, Son. I love you, too, Waddie, more’n you’ll ever know.” Buck’s voice was different, like he was trying to choke the words out and there was something stuck in his throat. “Now, what say you and me go down to the creek, take a swim, cool off and wash the cowshit off our clothes?”

Buck chose the second option. His little buddy meant too much to him to throw it all away on a temporary, short lived, pleasure. He knew he could’ve had it. God knows, he wanted it. Buck never wanted anything so badly in his life than to share physical love with this man-child he had come to love so dearly. The single greatest temptation of his adult life the big man resisted because his love was greater than his lust. In that simple decision he made the transition from animal to the status his God had originally assigned him, slightly lower than an angel. This was one man, Lucifer, the most comely of the archangels, the bearer of light, would have humbly bowed down before.

“Good idea, Uncle Buck. You smell like an old heifer what’s ate too many butter bean hulls and got the runs.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, you don’t smell like no damn flower, neither.” They broke up laughing again.

The two boys, a very large boy and a small one, two buddies, were off on another adventure. Another chance to share their growing love for each other. It was a beautiful, warm, afternoon. They rinsed their clothes and hung them on a branch to dry. They swam in the clear water of the creek and tried to catch fish with their hands. It seemed so natural to them being there in the nude. Waddie owned Buck’s soul and he knew it. He held it in the palm of his hand, but he loved Buck so much he entrusted his own soul to his buddy.

Buck was a big ole cowboy. Broad at the shoulders and narrow at the hips; hung just slightly smaller than a Brahma bull and proud of it. Weren’t nothing shy about Buck. He was all man and could back it up. He could be one of the meanest kick-ass cowboys you’d never want to anger. There were a few tales about people being roughed up by the sheriff and his deputies because they felt brave enough to piss them off. Around Waddie, Buck was the gentlest of men. He was not beyond a little rough housing and horseplay with his buddy, but there was a time to work, a time to play and a time to drink from each others’ seemingly endless supply of love for each other.

One reason Waddie loved the big man; he wasn’t afraid to let the little boy inside come out and play with his nephew. They played for hours in the shady pool of cool water. It was one of the best afternoons they ever spent together. Waddie hoped that afternoon, his first adult sexual partner, would be his beloved uncle. There was no doubt in his mind, he wanted it to be. He didn’t think about the conflict of two males laying down together. Waddie knew the way it was ‘suppose’ to be, but he loved and trusted his uncle so much he knew he would show him the way. He realized he was foolish to think a grown man of Uncle Buck’s stature might take the chance of being compromised. Waddie didn’t want that for this man he loved so much. He resigned himself to stop trying to seduce his uncle, . . . tomorrow, . . . . for the rest of the afternoon, Buck was fair game. It was open season on baggin’ a sheriff, Waddie thought to himself and giggled at his own silliness. He knew he wouldn’t.

He realized without the words being spoken, Buck would let Waddie know when he thought he was ready, and when Buck was ready to take him. Waddie was comfortable with Buck’s decision. He knew to wait would make it all the more wonderful when the big man followed him into a room, turned, locked the door behind them, and came to him to continue the kiss they began that afternoon. The thought, the image, his excitement knowing his uncle would take him for his first time, lay quiet, peaceful and still on the back roads of his memory, gentle on Waddie’s mind. God gave them that special afternoon because He knew the boy’s dream was not to be.

Three bright angels wrapped their wings about him to give him grace. Buck looked in awe at the beauty and transcendence of Waddie’s body. In one moment he changed from an animal of nature to a child of God as one strong ray of light illuminated the boy from the darkness of the shaded pool. Buck felt the presence of God and fell to his knees. He didn’t want to frighten Waddie but remained watching a ray of light follow the boy around in his play. Buck knew this was a sign, a validation, he made the right choice. The Old Man looked upon Buck’s soul and saw that it was good. This man was his son in whom he was well pleased.

They swam in the coolness of the creek; Buck’s powerful body underneath Waddie’s. The boy would have his hands on his uncle’s massive shoulder and let Buck piggy-back him across the deepest part of the water. It was twenty to thirty feet deep in places. The pool was created out of an old limestone quarry. The only place on Earth anyone has found pink limestone. A geological anomaly. The limestone was quarried for two Texas county court houses. Since the eighteen hundreds the quarry became natural swimming pools for the locals. The community would get together each spring and clean it of debris. The water was so pure, clean and tasted wonderful after running over miles of limestone to get there. You could see all the way to the bottom. There was no murkiness or algae as the limestone raised the alkalinity of the water so high it was undesirable to the plant.

Buck was neither afraid to pull Waddie up to him and kiss him nor reach down playfully and pull on his dick. It would send Waddie into gales of laughter. Buck would swim up behind him underwater, grab Waddie from behind and blow bubbles up the crack of his ass. Waddie would go bananas, yelling and giggling not only from the tickling sensation but the sheer ecstacy of sharing such an intimate, sensual form of play with his beloved uncle.

Because of Buck being sheriff of the county and Waddie’s own responsibilities, the two men rarely got a chance to be alone and spend quality time with each other. They were wallowing in the joy of each other’s companionship and play. Buck would lay back, grab a mouthful of water and Waddie would have both small hands around Buck’s bull dick. He would pump it up and down. Buck would throw back his head and expel the water through pursed lips as if Waddie were pumping it from him. Waddie called him his ‘pee-pee pump.’

“Buck could see Waddie’s creative imagination growing by leaps and bounds. He was always looking at things in a different way than other folks. Waddie got to studying Buck’s huge hulking frame and decided they were going to play “up periscope/down periscope” and Buck’s body was to be his submarine. You have to use your imagination for that one; Waddie did. Buck knew this play was not what they both wanted so desperately but it came pretty damn close. Waddie knew what Buck was doing and he quickly joined in the spirit of inventive play. Waddie would play with Buck’s butt hole to the big man’s delight and made his eyes get real big when Waddie slipped his finger in to feel around. Waddie understood the rules, what he explored on someone else, gave them right to do the same to him.

“Be careful, young’un!” Buck smiled at him. “You do that again you might lose your hand. There's teeth down there what'll bite that curious little finger of yores plumb off.”

“Y'ain’t got no teeth down there, Uncle Buck.”

“Yeah? I wouldn't be s'damn sure 'bout that if'n I was you. I told ju' about it when we was talking about sex, don’cha’ remember? Told ju’ all about it. You just forgot. It's something a man develops when he’s about your age, another set of teeth down there as sort of a spare pair. Where the hell you think false teeth come from?” Buck told him seriously in his best West Texas bullshit artist, dead pan face. Waddie almost bought it but looked for the telltale sign in Buck’s eyes, a twinkle, and, . . . there it was. He saw it. A dead giveaway.

“Aww, Uncle Buck, I didn’t just fall off no turnip truck. ‘Sides, all I gotta’ do is glance at chore’ headlights. If’n you got chore’ fogs on, I know I’m gettin’ smoke blown up my butt.” The boy threw back his head and laughed at his uncle. “I’ve seen you eat, remember? As much as you like to chow down, you’d be eat’n at both ends if that was true.” He splashed water in his uncle’s smiling face.

“Yeah? Well, then, where would I shit?”

“Out chore’ belly button.” Waddie howled with laughter at trumping his uncle.

“Think you’re pretty damn smart, don’cha, kid? You better never try’n slip that little hand in Uncle Buck’s bunghole, . . . you’ll get it bitten off. Then what'll ya' jack off with?”

“Oh, hell, Uncle Buck, I don’t never have to worry ‘bout that.”

“You don’t? Why?”

“You’d do it for me.” Then Waddie laughed and splashed water in his face again.

“You’re right. Ya’ got me there, pod’ner. Of course, I would, but don’t be so damn smug about it, ya' little shit. Always remember to leave a man his dignity, his pride.” Then he proceeded to dunk his nephew.

After a while, Waddie and Buck got tired and decided to lay on a clean sandbar in the warmth of the late afternoon sun. It made them both sleepy. Waddie had never been taught to be shy about holding or feeling his dad or Buck’s dick. He backed his little ass up to Buck’s crotch and felt the big man getting hard. He reached behind him and placed Buck’s dick between his smaller legs, then with both hands, held the part of Buck's dick which protruded out from underneath Waddie’s little balls. Buck let out a deep sigh and put his arms around Waddie to pull him closer. He bussed a kiss behind the boy’s ear and whispered to him.

“I thank God ever' day he gimme’ such a fine buddy as you, Waddie. Don’t know what I’d do without my little buddy. I thought I knew what love was all about until God sent me you. That feels so good you keeping Uncle Buck’s dick warm like that. I just want you to know how much I appreciate it. Some of the best times you and me’s ever had was lying close like this. It means a lot to me to hold my little buddy close.” Waddie looked into Buck’s eyes knowing this was no bullshit, his big buddy was being serious and loving.

Once again Buck gently placed his mouth on Waddie’s but this kiss was different and Waddie felt it; he understood its message. It was the gentle kiss of a protecting angel that told the boy not to feel rejected if the big man didn’t respond to his need to give. He was older and knew about these things. The time wasn't right. There would be a time Buck would gladly and lovingly accept his offer, but not now, not today. Waddie returned Buck’s kiss with the same, almost holy communion. Buck knew without asking, this was what Waddie was talking about. He so desperately wanted to believe Waddie was his son.

Though it was physically stimulating to them, there was nothing sexual in their kiss. It was the kiss from the man-child who dwelled inside the big man to the man-child he held in his arms. It was, once again, the bonding of two boys as friends and buddies Buck shared with Waddie’s dad all those years ago and started a love they still shared. It was also more. It was greater, deeper and more meaningful than any love Buck shared with his brother or his own wife for that matter, but it didn’t frighten him. In his kiss was also the love of a father for a son. It was a kiss that said,

'Don’t be afraid to trust and share with me. I’m not afraid to trust and share with you. Let our lives flow in and out of each other with joy, peace, compassion and unconditional love. Let us share a love that knits up the unraveled sleeve of care and becomes the Carpenter’s glue for a greater personal understanding, a hope for tomorrow, a foundation for a new humanity which can only begin here and now, with us.'

They lay there in the warm afternoon sun with Waddie’s head resting on the big man’s arm and Buck’s big, right hand cupped around Waddie’s little cock and balls. They went to sleep and didn’t wake until the sun was going down when they began to get chilled. They got up, gathered their dry clothes and started putting them on. Waddie laughed and pointed at Buck.

“Hey, buckaroo, you still got a big ole hard-on.”

“Well, what about chu,’ Howdy Doody? You could run a flag up that pole between yore’ legs.”

That struck Waddie as the funniest damn thing anyone ever said to him. He laughed and giggled all the way back to town. His Uncle Buck once again turned over his giggle box. Buck and he were still laughing when Buck took him to his home for the night. Buck’s lovely wife, Linda Sue, was visiting relatives in Dallas for the weekend and the two men had the run of the house to themselves. Waddie’s dad wasn’t due in until the next night.

“They showered together. Waddie washed all of Buck he could. He even gently washed under the foreskin of Buck’s dick. He was very careful because he knew how sensitive it was. Buck got a big ole hard-on again and Waddie laughed at him. Then it was Buck’s turn to wash the boy. Waddie could tell how much the big man loved him from the way he washed his body. Of course, Waddie got a roaring boner, too. It was Buck’s turn to laugh. They got out and toweled each other dry. Waddie took great care to dry Buck’s massive back and shoulders. They both resigned themselves to wearing hard-ons the whole time they were together. They knew they turned each other on. Hell, they were used to it by now; although, it didn’t stop them from razzing each other. Between Buck and Waddie, anything was fair game for humor. They enjoyed each other’s company. As Waddie would say, “They was buddies!”

They had a little dinner and went into the den to watch T.V. Buck was the first man in the county to own his own T.V. A small round tube about nine inches in diameter. There was only one station. They sat on a huge comfortable couch that sort of wrapped itself around them. It was soft and sensual to their naked bodies and both got roaring hard again. Waddie crawled up into Buck’s big lap and got comfortable. Waddie turned his head up to look at Buck, their eyes met and Buck distinctly heard in his mind, Waddie’s voice ask him, ‘Please, kiss me, Uncle Buck.’ He laughed at himself for being silly but kissed his nephew gently. Waddie drifted off to sleep. Once, he thought he felt his big buddy kiss him on his forehead as he pushed his hair back. He could swear he felt rain drops, but they were warm. He knew, from within the comfortable fog of coasting between the isle of dreams and the shore he’d just sailed from, he was inside his uncle's house. It couldn't be raining. Could it? Oh, well, . . .

‘Why do I love this boy so much?’ Buck wondered to himself.

‘Because he’s the epitome of everything you ever wanted in a son. He’s athletic, he was born with his boots on, he’s got a brain up in lights, he’s funny, he’s charming, he’s unassuming, he don’t ask for much, he’s giving, he’s compassionate, he’s sensitive, when he knows he’s right he won’t back down from any son of a bitch, there’s no sounding the depths of his love, and best or worst of all, . . . the little shit even looks like you.’

Buck didn’t realize his eyes were watering and dropping on Waddie’s face. He must be allergic to something in the room, he thought. The big cowboy didn’t even try to wrestle with his physical attraction to the boy. He just accepted it. It was there. There was no question in Buck's mind, he would one day share that with the young man, but Waddie would have to be old enough to make that choice for himself. Buck wouldn’t force him nor seduce him. Now, if he can only manage to survive Waddie’s seduction. There was no doubt in his mind Waddie wanted him as much as he wanted Waddie.

‘I’m the adult!’ he thought to himself, ‘I will be strong for my son.’

‘Your son?’ a small counter-voice questioned him.

‘Yes, Goddamn it, my son! He’s as much mine as he is Morgan’s. Morgan done gimme’ half a’ him. He’s my Godson for cries sake. I’d give Morgan half if'n he was mine.’

‘Would you, Buck? Would you really give Morgan half of Waddie if he was your son?’ the same small voice nagged within his mind. Buck paused for a long moment before answering. ‘It’ knew the truth whether Buck admitted it or not.

‘Why lie?’ he asked himself. ‘No, . . . God forgive me, . . . . I wouldn't.’ he thought quietly.

‘I didn’t think so.’ replied the voice gently with no judgment. Buck could swear he felt a gentle hand on his bare shoulder. It was warm and understanding. He could swear he heard the same voice whisper in his ear, 'Soon, . . ."

Buck began to pray silently, ‘Dear God, I’ll never tell a soul I think of him as my son. Maybe I’ll tell Waddie one day. Please, God, help me. Please, Lord, where do I sort out my physical passion from my need to parent this child? If I am to be his parent, is it possible for him to be my son, Sir? He told me to ask you, and . . . Sir, . . . if’n there’s anyway you could give us a miracle and make this boy mine, I would be most grateful, Lord. My bother don’t seem to appreciate him the way I do, Lord. I know it’s wrong to covet my brother’s son, and I ask forgiveness, Sir. Help me, Lord, . . .

Oh, dear Father in heaven, I love this boy,' Buck prayed to himself, 'He’s become me, and I’ve become him. He thinks like I do. We read each other’s thoughts. One glance and I can tell what’s on his mind. He walks like I do. He’s learned to imitate my speech patterns. He talks like me. Everyone in town, including Morgan, is calling him 'Little Buck' or 'Buck Jr.' Oh, God, if he only was my son. I’m not ungrateful, Lord. He’s here, laying in my lap asleep. I’ve probably had the best damn day of my life with this kid. Heaven couldn’t be much better’n today was, Lord.’ Tears started rolling down Buck’s handsome face. This time it wasn’t from an allergy. ‘I thank you for every minute you let me have with him, . . . but Sir, . . . . I beg you, with all my heart, to forgive me. Please, forgive me as I sit here holding this boy and think, for all the love I have for my beloved brother Morgan, who I would gladly lay down my life for and proved it, he ain’t half the kindred spirit Waddie is to me. Oh, God and Morgan, please forgive me for even having the thought.’

Buck thought it possible he loved Waddie more than he could’ve loved his own son if he had one. There was just something about the kid he couldn’t put into words. He didn’t dare tell Morgan he thought Waddie was the kid he was suppose to have and the heavenly baby delivery service sent the right package to the wrong address. He thanked God that evening for his beautiful wife who couldn’t give him children but whom he never stopped loving for a moment when they found out. He would never leave her. He believed in the vows he said to her. The big man thanked his God again for trusting him with the treasure he had in Waddie’s love.

Waddie slept peacefully in his big cowboy buddy’s arms, his Godfather, the man who he was coming to love above all others including his dad. He loved his dad but things had happened, . . . terrible things. He wasn’t sure his dad loved him anymore. Waddie was forced to invest his love in others but it was so easy to love his huge, uncomplicated, loving, protective, cowboy uncle. His heart felt loved unconditionally, and his soul was at peace sheltered in Buck's protective arms. God help him, he wanted to be Buck's son.

Waddie was awakened by movement and could swear his dad was stretched out next to his uncle, naked as a jay bird. They were kissing each other. He thought it was a natural thing for them to be doing. He'd seen them do it so many times. Though Waddie was no longer sure of his dad's love for him, he still loved his dad. Waddie reached his hand out to his dad, gently pulled him to him and kissed him on the mouth. Then he promptly moved back to sleep in the safety and comfort of his Godfather’s arms. Before he drifted off to sleep, Waddie sent a prayer to heaven.

'Thank you, God, for my two dads. Help my dad learn to love and trust me, Lord. Thank you for a wonderful day to be with and love my Uncle Buck. He's so good to me. You are, too, and I love you, Sir.'

The Old Man smiled and found favor with the man-child. He sent one of his swiftest, brightest angels, Urial, to expel his holy breath across the sleeping boy and give to him, . . . the gift of wonder.