Maverick Cattle Company Ch. 09

"Sheriff. Get outta the car."

Immediately Jim heard cursing and the car began to shake from side to side from the frantic motion as the individuals in the car scrambled for clothes, at least that was Jim's hope. Letting a few more second pass, he banged on the car window again. "Get out! I don't care if you are decent or not. Get outta that car!" yelled the sheriff.

A second flurry of activity ensued for a few heartbeats, and Jim put his hand on his gun. Finally the door cracked open and a disheveled blond head slowly came out of the door.

"Fuck'n chill, Man. I'm fuck'n come'n out. Just gimme a fuck'n second."

Sheriff White Cloud grabbed the kid and pushed him facing against the side of the car. "Spread em, kid; and watch your smart mouth or you'll end up in jail for the night. Now, you, get out of that car!" pointing to the other figure in the back seat.

Jim was only slightly surprised to see another male head emerging from the car. As he slowly emerged, he raised his hands, which were trembling visibly. Once he was out and standing with his hands up, Jim looked him over with a deepening scowl on his face, and then glanced at the kid. The Sheriff would guess the man's age at about 30, and the kid at around 14. On second inspection, it became evident that this kid was hooking to survive on the streets. How this guy had gotten the kid to agree to come with him to the middle of nowhere was slightly frightening to Jim. It would be too easy for someone to bring a homeless kid out to the middle of the sticks, and dispose of the body later. He decided this was a situation that would quickly get out of hand; so he put cuffs on the kid and then pushed him back against the car. Turning to the older man, he easily slid into his persona of hardened cop.

"ID. Now," said the sheriff in a clipped tone.

The guy fumbled with his wallet, keeping one hand up and he handed it to the sheriff. In his hesitancy, he lost his balance and lurched forward. Before he knew what had happened he was face down across the trunk of the car, with the Sheriff's revolver trained on him. As he turned his head and looked up the barrel, his eyes widened in fear and he omitted a soft groan.

"Oh shit. Don't shoot me. Oh god please don't shoot me. It's not what it looks like," whimpered the john.

"It looks like you're out in the middle of nowhere, on private land, having sex with a 14 year old boy. That's what it looks like!" snapped the sheriff.

"I ain't fuck'n 14! I'm fuck'n almost 17!" mouthed off the kid.

Sheriff White Cloud turned his hardened visage on the kid. "I warned you! You need to watch your smart mouth. If you have any sense you won't say another damn word." Turning back to the adult, he stepped back and rifled through his wallet. Pulling out his driver's license, he looked over at the guy's terror filled face.

"Kevin, Kevin Boorman huh. Well Mr. Boorman, it looks like you had a lot of explaining to do."

"Honest Sherriff, it isn't what it looks like. I just picked the kid up on the highway. He needed a ride. That's all!" said Kevin.

"You fuck'n son of a bitch. You're a fuck'n liar! You picked me up at that fuck'n park in the city. You said you'd give me fuck'n $100 to have sex with you! Asshole! You said we wouldn't get caught!"

Jim barked at the kid, "Shut it!"

Turning back to Boorman, he grabbed his arm and turned him around. When he did, he heard a whimper of fear and almost immediately smelled the odor of urine. The sheriff stepped back as the front of the terrified man's pants darkened with pee. Jim looked at the quivering individual and his drenched pants and sighed. Technically in Oklahoma, there was no age of consent for same sex encounters, and if this kid really was over 16, probably a trespassing charge would be all he could get to stick. And at this point, he was more concerned with the kid. He didn't look good, and he'd obviously been on the streets for months. His skeletal thin body and unwashed hair were indicators that he wasn't doing well. Jim probably should take him to the juvenile center, but somehow he thought that Mitch and Darrin might be able to help out this one too. It was worth a shot.

"No one do anything stupid. I need to call this in." With that the sheriff stepped back to his car and called in Boorman's information. Quickly determining that he had no arrest record, he returned and handed the license back to Kevin, who was standing and shaking, his pants soaked to the knees in pee.

"Get out of here," said the sheriff. "I don't want my car stinking like piss. But I have your information and if I need to find you, I can."

Boorman nodded frantically and raced to the driver side of his car while the sheriff pulled the handcuffed kid to his feet. They both watched as the small car peeled out down the road, it's high whining engine maxed out as he raced from the scene. With a sneer the kid turned and looked at Jim. "Fuck, he wasn't even very good."

Jim let out a bark of a laugh and walked the kid slowly to the squad car. "What's your name? I can't keep calling you kid." The youngster flipped his hair back and gave Jim a defiant look. "Don't cross me boy. Do you have a license? Since you're almost 17 and all."

That seemed to be the final straw, and you juvenile's attitude deflated. "Trent. My goddamn mother fuck'n name's Trent. Yeah, I have an id, it's in my fuck'n wallet."

The sheriff carefully fished a small wallet from the kids back pocket. Opening it cautiously he noted the name and birthday. Unbelievably the kid really was only days from turning 17. Calling in Trent's information, he was slightly surprised to find he had no priors.

"Alright Mr. Jones, it looked like you'll be going for a little visit tonight."

"Fine, take me to juvee. I'll be fuck'n gone from there by morning," said Trent.

"No, not Juvenile. I'm taking you to the ranch," Jim said with a slight smile as he helped Trent into the back seat.

<><><><>

Darrin and Mitch kept glancing out the window. Sheriff White Cloud had called them about an hour ago and had briefly filled them in on the kid he had taken in, and asked them if he could stay with them. Without hesitation they said he was welcome, and now were waiting for his arrival. Josh had also been told about the new arrival, but didn't seem to care one-way or the other.

Finally they saw headlights swing into the driveway. Both men moved to the door and watched as the car came to rest in front of their house. As the two figures moved into the ellipse cast by the porch light, Mitch opened the door and ushered them in. The sheriff led the slender figure with him into the living room before turning to Darrin and Mitch.

"Guys, this is Trent Jones. He needs a place to stay. He's almost 17, so he'll need to get into school as soon as possible. I'm afraid that what he's wearing is about all he owns. I can probably get some clothes from the church . . ." Sheriff White Cloud stopped and gauged their reaction. He saw they were studying the person standing in the middle of the room. Trent had thrown back the hood of his jacket and was staring at them through the one eye that wasn't buried under his chin length bangs. When he turned to look at them, his lips made a hard line under his too young looking ice blue eyes. As Trent flipped his head to move his bangs, Mitch saw the row of rings coming down the edge of his ear, as well as another ring through his upper lip. A few scraggly wisps of hair clung to his chin, all of which certainly made him look younger than 17. About the time the tension was starting to build, Josh walked into the room with Max.

A brief smile flashed on Trent's face as the dog walked over to him. He watched closely as the dog smelled him, and then lay down across his feet. Looking up he nodded at Josh. "Nice mutt."

Josh bristled at Trent's words and snapped at him, "He's not a mutt! His name is Max and he's a purebred working Border Collie."

"Well big fuck'n shit. Don't get your fuck'n panties in a twist. I was just say'n the dog's ok."

Josh bristled and called Max to him. When the response he got was a huge yawn as Max rested his head on Trent's canvas shoes, Josh stomped back into the bedroom.

Watching Trent lean down to scratch Max behind the ears, the three men moved back to talk. "The case worker will be out first thing Monday morning. They'll arrange for a physical and any treatments he might need. I'll talk to her and encourage them to leave him here. I don't know anywhere better for a kid in his situation."

Darrin looked at the young man standing in their living room and turned back to the sheriff with a sad smile. "Is this a trend, Jim?"

"I'd like to say no. But in all likelihood, so long as you and Mitch are willing, this is the best place for these kids."

Trent turned to them with an undecipherable look on his face. "I'm not a fuck'n deaf old fart, ya'know. And you fuck'n can't keep me here if I don't want to stay," said Trent.

Darrin started to reply, when to his surprise Mitch started to talk. "You can leave any time. But where are you going to go? Was it that great where you were before? Here you have people who might understand, and might even care about you if you give us half a chance. But at 16 you don't have many choices, and you don't have many more chances to turn your life around."

Sheriff White Cloud drilled Trent with his eyes and then started speaking. "Mitch's right. You don't have many chances left, kid. And that mouth isn't going to get you anywhere. The tough guy language might have worked in the city, but here you better drop it, and fast."

Trent looked like he was going to reply, but instead turned his back to the trio and sat down on the floor with Max crawling across his lap for more good scratches.