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In the back corner of the church's parking lot, the big man sat behind the wheel of his rented car and debated making an appearance while he watched his family and their friends enter the church. In the end, he could find no reason to show his face inside. Even if it was an open coffin service, he had no desire to lay eyes on his father's countenance again. So he waited until the service was finished, watched them carry the casket out of the church and load it into the back of a pickup to be carried to the family graveyard at the back of the family farm. His great grandparents on his father's side were buried there, as well as his paternal grandmother, two aunts, an uncle and one of his brothers. When the last car left the church parking lot he fell in at the end of the line.

He moved through the crowd gathered around the grave, not making eye contact with anyone until he was standing at the foot of the 4x8ft hole. He stared at the casket as it was slowly lowered. When it thumped on the bottom, he raised his eyes and cast his gaze at the people who had gathered graveside, wondering if they, too, were there only to assure themselves that the ol' bastard really was soon to be six feet under.

Their returned stares said that his kind wasn't welcome. His eyes connected with the Bishop's. Back when he was fifteen, still a good Mormon boy in high school, the man had instructed him on the finer points of sucking cock. The man hadn't been the Bishop back then. Three of the Elders behind the Bishop had furthered his education with the Bishop's blessing. They were all contemporaries of the ol' bastard. They all had large families. He'd gone to school with their sons and daughters. He ignored their malevolent stares. His lip curled in a slight sneer as he wondered if their wives were aware of their extracurricular activities, and wondered which young boys in the community were their victims these days?

The incident with Niles had been the moment of revelation for his mother. When she had learned that her husband was in cahoots with the town's leaders, and as soon as her last two children left for college she had left the ol' bastard.

He'd never forget the day that Niles had ridden into the yard hanging half out of the saddle, the back of his Levi's and the saddle seat red with blood.

His mother had yelled for him to throw some blankets in the bed of the pickup truck, and with him holding Niles lying face down on them, she'd driven like a mad woman to the town's health clinic.

The doctor, seeing Niles and immediately recognizing what had happened, rushed him into a room with one nurse and told everyone else to stay out. Fortunately for Niles he wasn't torn too badly and the doctor was able to sew him up with local anesthetics. The doctor had threatened everyone in the clinic with dire consequences if they breathed a word of what they'd seen. It hadn't been for Niles protection that he had done this. It had been for the ol' bastard who was the doctor's hunting buddy.

He remembered his mother demanding that Niles tell her who had hurt him - who had done it to him.

Niles at first refused, but had eventually broken down, and through heart wrenching tears had finally admitted, "It was Dad."

He hated the ol' bastard even more after he had hurt Niles. (It had been a long time since he'd last called him Dad or even addressed him as Sir) He'd wanted to go hunt him down, - put a bullet between his mean little eyes, but his mother's begging him not to prevailed.

As the men pulled the supporting ropes out from under the casket, his youngest sister stepped up and hung onto his arm with one hand as she wiped her eyes with her other. She glanced up at her brother's stony face. "I'm glad you came, Wayl, but why are you here?"

"Marie," he acknowledged, as he bent to scoop up a handful of gravely dirt and toss it into the hole. He smiled to himself as the skitter of the gravel across the casket startled her and the rest of the assemblage. Before he could answer her question, his youngest brother Al stepped up to them and dropped an arm around Waylon's shoulders. "Well, the ol' bastard is finally in the ground. Maybe now we can all rest in peace," he said loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Al!" Marie scolded. "You shouldn't be talking like that."

With a malicious grin, Al glanced at her then at the men and women gathered around - every one of them feeling the same relief, but too self-righteous to admit it. He was twenty-three to her twenty. They'd driven home together from up at BYU in Provo.

"Why not? He can't hear us anymore, much less do anything to us."

"Oh, you're incorrigible."

"So, Wayl," Al asked, ignoring Marie's scolding, "since you're in town, you're going to stop at the house, aren't you?"

"Leila will be there, won't she?"

Al shrugged. "Don't let her get to you. Her nasty husband won't be there, so you can relax."

Waylon recalled the times Paul, Leila's husband, another church elder in good standing, had taken him up to the family ranch for a little covert 'romping.' He'd lost his virginity to Paul. "Why weren't she and Paul here to see him dropped in the ground?" he asked, taking Marie's elbow and leading her away from the grave with Al following.

"They took Granpa back to the house. He couldn't bear the thought of watching his youngest son being buried."

"You'd think he'd be grateful for the chance. God knows we've heard them often wish each other was dead and burning in hell."

"But Dad was still his son, Wayl." Marie said. "It's got to be very hard to bury your own child."

"Yeah, it's a strange situation. Granpa refused to live in the same house with Uncle Paul, and Aunt Leila refused to let Dad through her door, so the two of them were left no choice but to share the old homestead on the farm," Al said.

"Well, since he and Grandpa were cast from the same mold, can you blame her?" Wayl asked.

"I suppose Mom sent flowers." Al commented.

"Are you kidding? When Leila told Mom that the ol' bastard was in critical condition, her response was, "Let me know when he's in the ground and I'll come dance on his grave."

Marie's eye enlarged. "You don't think she really would, do you?"

Wondering at her naïveté, Waylon shrugged and said, "You know our mother as well as we do, Mar. What do you think?"

Al grinned. "It would be fun to see. Sure would cause a scandal in this little Mormon town though."

"Oh hell, Al, most of the women folks would turn out to join her," Waylon laughed.

"So Niles refused to come over with you?" Marie asked, changing the subject.

"You're just yanking my chains, Mar. You know damned well that there is nothing Ni would return here for - even to see the ol' bastard buried."

"I swear, Wayl," Al exclaimed, "I'm still surprised that Ni didn't go gunning for him. He'd always been so macho - acting just like the ol' bastard himself."

By the time Waylon was twelve, he'd learned to distrust his father and his damned mean mind games. Al had, too. Ni was the only one that never seemed to have caught on and still loved the ol' bastard. It broke him when he did that to him. Ni was so ashamed and heartbroken that he just crept away.

It was a couple of years before Niles could tell him the whole story of how he'd been up at the ranch skinny dipping with Enrique, a handsome Mexican kid that worked for the family. The ol' bastard had ridden up on his horse, the soft river sand muffling his approach, and caught the two boys blowing each other. He'd silently watched until they were finished before making his presence known. He'd sent Enrique back to work and had joined Niles in the swimming hole. Niles had always worshipped his father, and when he started making advances on Niles, Niles had eagerly submitted.

Niles had never seen, or maybe he'd just ignored the fact that the ol' bastard had a nasty mean streak.

Once he had Niles all excited, he tied him to a fallen tree and without any lubrication had his way with him.

Niles had said that worse than the physical abuse the verbal was much more demeaning.

He could still hear Niles weeping as he said, "I loved him. I would have done anything for him. I thought he loved me, too."

The worst bit was that he left Niles tied to the tree and sent Enrique back to let him loose. Enrique had packed his meager belonging and had disappeared that night.

The ol' bastard had then laughingly told his cohorts - the bishop and his cronies - about the rape. The bishop had actually tried to get into Niles pants while the family thought he was comforting Niles. Niles had told him that the doctor had tried, too - once he had healed.

"Why did you let Dad get away with it, Wayl?" Al asked, bringing Waylon back to the present. "You're the oldest, and have the most reason for taking him down for the things he did to you, you should have."

"Truth?"

Al nodded.

"Ni begged me not to. And he even got Mom to talk sense to me 'cause I was ready to do just that. Then, of course, the Bishop and a couple of elders decided to talk to me, too. It was because of them that I took Ni with me and left."

Al didn't look like he understood the explanation, and Waylon wasn't about to tell him about the talk with those hypocritical asses, but before he could say anything more, Marie snapped at them. "I still don't know what happened between Dad and Ni, so if you're not going to tell me, just shut up about it."

"Well, you brought it up." Waylon said with a teasing grin.

"So one of you tell me what happened."

"Ask Mom, she's a woman. She can tell you," Al said.

"I asked her and she told me it was none of my business."

"So there you go," Al grinned in relief.

"So do Leila and Paul know?" Marie asked.

Waylon shrugged. "She must, otherwise why did she turn away from the ol' bastard?" He wasn't about to get into what Paul knew.

"So why did you come back?" Marie asked.

"Two reasons. One, to make sure the ol' bastard wasn't playing another one of his games. The other … to thumb my nose at all these warm, loving, upstanding people of Plattsville."

Al grinned as Marie asked, "Why would you do that, Wayl?"

"Let me just say that I hope you find a good man to love and settle down with far from this little town."

"I just don't know what you have against these people. We grew up with them. They're like family."

"I'm not going to be the one to explain it to you, Marie. So, just let it alone."

Waylon had been set on heading back home to southern California from the graveyard, but let Marie and Al talk him into at least stopping by long enough to say hello to their grandfather. The minute he stepped inside the old farmhouse where he'd been born and raised he knew it was a mistake. Paul was sitting in the middle of the sofa with his arms spread over the back, a nasty, knowing smirk on his face as he lorded over the room. Their elderly grandfather was sitting in a high-backed club chair across the room looking like doomsday.

Paul noted when Waylon entered the room with his younger sibs that he was no longer the small young teenager of ten years ago. He now had the build and stature of his father, which made him a couple of inches taller and several pounds heavier than himself. Waylon obviously no longer feared him.

"So the prodigal returns," Paul sneered.

Waylon gave him a one-sided half smile accompanied by a hiked eyebrow, strode across the room to his grandfather, gave him a kiss on the forehead and said, "It's good to see you, Pop. Sorry it's under these conditions."

The elderly man smiled up at his eldest grandson, but didn't reply. Waylon then walked around behind the sofa, and as he passed Paul, he pinched his shoulder muscles making the older man yelp. "Wanna take a ride up to the ranch, Uncle Paul?"

Paul looked up at him with interest.

Waylon smirked and whispered in his ear, "Won't be me getting it in the rear if you do."

Paul frowned.

Marie had headed into the kitchen after greeting her grandfather, unaware of what her brother was up to. Al stood in front of the unlit fireplace and watched his older brother teasing his uncle. He suspected what the subject was - having been lured to the ranch once by Paul when he was a young teenager. He'd kicked the man in the nuts and threatened to expose him to the community. Paul had made a lame excuse saying he was just joking around that it didn't mean anything, but he hadn't attempted anything more with him. From Al's expression, Waylon suspected something like that had happened.

The reason Paul had succeeded with Waylon was because he was just discovering his interest lay with men - not women, and Paul had taken advantage of that.

"Maybe you have some other young boy now that you'd be willing to share. Do you, Uncle Paul?" he said just loud enough for Paul and Al to hear.

"Shut up and leave me alone, Waylon. You're as bad as your dad."

Waylon straighten up grinning and glanced at Al again. Al was grinning, too. His granddad had dozed off. "Now you know that's not true," Waylon said to Paul. "The ol' bastard would've hog-tied you years ago, fucked the shit out of you and then told the town father's about how much you enjoyed it."

Waylon didn't realize he'd hit so close to the truth until Paul stood up abruptly. "Shut up and stay away from me." He strode out the front door and stepped off the porch.

Waylon watched him out the door, then wandered into the kitchen and gave his aunt a perfunctory kiss on her cheek. "Hi, Leila, how're you holding up?" he asked.

His aunt eyed him suspiciously. "I thought you'd divorced yourself from us."

Waylon grinned. "Nah, I wouldn't do that."

Leila harrumphed and went about finishing the dishes her dad had left stacked in the sink. "So what are you picking on Paul about?"

Waylon leaned an elbow on the counter and studied his aunt as he said, "I think you know what I was picking at him about."

Leila glanced at him without turning her head, rinsed off a couple of plates and set them in the dish drainer. "He's a good man despite his proclivity."

"I suppose I'm lucky I don't have any cousins. Otherwise, his proclivity might mean more to you, right, Leila?"

"Get out of here, Waylon, and leave me alone."

"Oh, I'm going, Aunty Dear."

Waylon went in search of his younger siblings, told them to stay in touch and call him if they needed anything. His grandfather was still asleep. He lightly rubbed the old man's shoulder and headed out to his car. He saw Paul leaning against a tree across the yard, grinned maliciously and shoved his right fist up at him as he slapped his left hand over his right bicep, giving him the universal symbol for Fuck You, got in his car and left.

He sighed with relief as he turned onto the highway headed west. It was a long drive back home. He was eager to get back to Niles loving arms.