During the week that Justin and Brian returned to Pittsburgh Claire's boys had a semi-eventful time. They continued with their silent strike thinking somehow they were punishing Steve and Bill and the other boys by depriving them of their words of wisdom. Most of the other people at the farm were only too happy not to have to listen to their continual belly-aching about how hard done by they were.

On Monday they were assigned to making salad for lunch. The cook who supervised all the meals showed them how to wash the lettuce, spin it dry and then tear it into bite sized pieces. When the cook went to help some other boys who were assigned to cooked vegetables, Peter tried to start a food fight with his brother. He had thrown the first handful of lettuce when Steve walked in to check on them. A fistful of lettuce hit Steve in the chest as Peter ducked to avoid John's retaliation.

Both boys froze. They wondered what horrible new job they would be given to atone for this most recent sin. John remembered when Uncle Brian had stuck his head in the toilet. Peter thought back to all the screaming matches he had had with his mother.

"Pick up all the lettuce you have cleaned," Steve ordered deliberately not raising his voice.

The boys looked at each other. Peter shrugged and lifted the bowl in which he had already placed all the lettuce he had torn up. John picked up the salad spinner in which he had placed a whole head.

"Outside," Steve said and waited for the boys to pass him and exit the building. Each carried their container of lettuce.

When the boys had disappeared from view Steve winked at the cook and the other boys. He nodded towards a couple of heads of lettuce lying untouched on the counter. They split the heads and each took about half a head.

"Now," Steve said and they ran out the door firing hunks of lettuce at Peter and John. Taken by surprise, Claire's children stood and were pelted for a whole minute. Then they realized they had their own ammunition and began throwing chunks of lettuce back at their attackers. Bodies shucked and ducked and ran and jumped. Laughter and shrieks filled the air. The battle raged unchecked for several minutes. Finally the lettuce was used up and lay in limp clumps all over the ground.

Peter bent down and found a handful which he threw at Steve. Steve batted it away and grinned in triumph. Sweating and panting the group stared at each other.

One of the other boys broke the silence, "That was fun."

A chorus of, "yeahs" greeted his statement.

"I'm sweating like a pig," Steve declared. "Let's go take a quick dip before dinner."

"I don't have a bathing suit," Peter said.

"Come anyway," Steve replied. "It's hot and the water will feel nice."

Peter shook his head and so did John. Steve shrugged and the rest of the group including the cook took off through the trees for their swim.

"I wish we could have gone," John said sadly as the group disappeared from sight.

"Well we can't."

"But…"

"No buts. Do you want them to know that we can't swim? Then they'll tease us all the time."

"I guess you're right," John agreed.

"I am right."

"That water would have felt real good though."

"Go take a shower," Peter said with a frown. "It's all we ever get."



*********************************************



By Wednesday Peter and John had forgotten about their silent strike. Having spoken during the lettuce fight it seemed rather pointless to try to continue it. They were mostly cooperating and doing their assigned chores.

Wednesday was blistering hot. One of those August days that takes your breath away with the heat and humidity. Steve called all the boys together in the yard after lunch.

"Since the heat is unbearable we're all heading for the stream in an hour," Steve announced.

There was a round of cheers and applause.

"Can we stay all afternoon?" one boy asked.

"Don't see why not. Cook's bringing a pot and hot dogs. That'll be dinner."

"Yay!" everyone yelled. Everyone except Peter and John.

"Go get your towels and suits," Steve said. "Assemble here in one hour."

The boys scampered off. John looked at Peter as they headed back to the bunkhouse. Neither knew how they were going to get out of this.

When the boys were ready to leave for the stream, John came out of the bunkhouse and walked over to Steve. "Peter's not feeling well," John said. "I'll stay here with him."

"He seemed all right a few minutes ago," Steve replied.

"He's got pains in his stomach. Maybe food poisoning."

"I doubt that," Steve said with a frown. "Bill, take the group to the stream. I'll be down in a few minutes."

Bill nodded and he, the cook and the band of happy boys headed into the woods.

"Let's go check on your brother," Steve said.

"He'll be fine if I stay with him," John said. "You go on and have your swim."

"Not without you two."

"What do you care whether we go or not?" John demanded.

"There's no reason you shouldn't enjoy this place like the other boys."

"We … we hate it here."

"Not half as much as you'd like me to believe," Steve replied.

"What … what do you mean?"

"I saw how much fun you were having during the lettuce fight."

John grinned at the memory. Then his face sobered. "It was fun, but why did you do that. Didn't we waste food?"

"What's a few heads of lettuce when there's a war to be won?" Steve smiled.

John grinned. "I thought you were going to make us eat all that lettuce that we had torn up."

"That would be cruel."

John studied Steve's face and saw only kindness and caring in it. He frowned again. "Peter's not really sick," he said.

"I know."

"You do?"

"You two don't know how to swim, do you?" Steve asked.

"How? How did you know?"

"Let's get Peter and I'll teach you both to swim."

"I don't think he'll let you teach him," John hesitated.

"With your help he might. Get him up and bring him to the stream. I have a call to make."

With Big John's help Steve was able to get each nephew to do a dog paddle and float a little bit in the stream that day. Little John knew he liked his namesake and he only looked up to his uncle even more when the man managed to teach him the rudiments of swimming. Peter let Steve school him in the fine water arts. The cool water was a major incentive for the boys to learn enough to enjoy the water and not drown in the process.

When the group got ready to make their way back to the farm, Peter looked at Steve. "I still hate it here," he said seriously.

"Of course you do," Steve grinned.

Peter scowled at him and walked away with the others. Steve winked at John and followed the merry little band of misfits back to the farm.

Back at the farm all the boys broke up into small groups to do their evening chores.

Tonight it was John's and Peter's assignment to water and feed the small herd of sheep, goats and of course, Daisy, the little donkey that Gus had had the pleasure of riding.

It was a relatively simple task. Turn on the spigot to fill the water trough, add some more hay and grain to the feed trough and roll a new salt lick into the pen. All in all, about 15 minutes worth of work which would earn the nephews and the rest of the boys who completed the day's chores, a special dessert sent over by Claire and some of her church group. The most important instruction the nephews received was to secure the pen for the night. The farm was a crop farm. A herd of sheep and goats could do considerable damage to the crops in a short span of time.

Peter and John argued about who was going to do what. Their 15 minutes was quickly turning into 30 and they were on the verge of missing dessert.

"Hurry up!" yelled John at his brother who was having a difficult time with the old spigot.

"I'm hurrying! Got it," Peter shouted back. He slammed the gate closed then ran to join his brother who was already walking towards the cookhouse.

Thursday morning and another hot steamy August day. John had business in Pittsburgh so it was agreed that Claire would take the drive into the city with John. While John was seeing his new client, Claire was going to visit Sidney Bloom and the gallery. Justin and Jennifer would join Claire there and they would all have lunch together.

The meet with Sidney went well. Claire was shocked at the interest the Kinney paintings produced. With Claire's permission, the Bloom gallery would announce a show of gay artists with the primary focus on Kinney and his work as well as Martha's sketches. Any gay artist could submit a sample of his or her work; the best would be displayed alongside of Kinney's. After the show, Kinney's work would go up for auction, the proceeds to be given to the farm.

Brian joined Claire, Jennifer and Justin for lunch. He had an announcement of his own to proclaim.

"It's too damn hot to work. I rearranged my schedule for tomorrow. If it's okay with you Claire, we can drive you back to the farm and stay the weekend. John called me and said his meetings are running late. I'd love a cool dip in the stream, providing the frog keeps his distance."

The little group laughed. Brian did his best to maintain the scowl on his face but he couldn't and laughed along with them. A little after one, Brian, Justin and Claire were heading back to the farm.

With little traffic on the road, they arrived at the house before four. As Brian and Justin stowed their duffle bags in the treehouse, Claire came running out of the porch.

"Brian! You need to get to the farm now. There was a message from Steve; the boys are missing. If you take the lane toward the cottage you can be there in 5 minutes." Brian just about heard Claire's directions as he went running toward the farm with Justin close at his heels.

"What happened?" Brian asked of Steve as he ran into the yard.

"The boys went missing. At first we didn't know they had gone. It wasn't until we rounded up the sheep and goats that we noticed that they didn't help and they were nowhere to be found. The sheriff's been alerted as well as the state troopers. If they stick to the main roads we'll find them quick. We have several hours before dark."

Panting and very worried, Brian stood unconvinced. "Steve, take it from the top. You said that they were making some progress. Why would they run?"

Steve explained to Brian about last night's chores and the explicit instructions to secure the pen gate. This morning found the sheep and goats loose and many in the cornfield. Only Daisy had enough sense to stay in the pen. It took several hours to get all the sheep and goats back into the pen and to survey the damage. By lunch time everyone, four legged and two, was accounted for except for John and Peter. That's when they initiated the search.

"Where have you looked?" Justin asked.

"We searched all the buildings, and then took some horses to search the fields and the neighboring woods. The sheriff notified the troopers and some of the local crop dusters. They can fly low enough to spot them."

"What's that noise? Is that a crop duster?" Justin looked up toward the sky.

"No, the grain silo is being filled. We don't use much so it should be done soon." Just then the annoying noise stopped. "There, all done," Steve said.

Brian, deep in thought and silently berating himself for putting his nephews in danger, walked a few feet away, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He stopped for a moment then turned toward Steve and Justin.

"The silo!" Brian shouted then took off at full run toward the silo.

Reaching the door before anyone else, Brian pulled it wide open. In the dim light he could just make out two lumps buried chest deep in the grain. The air was thick with grain dust.

"I need help!" Brian shouted out again then plunged into the grain. Reaching Peter first, Brian grabbed the boy and yanked him out of the grain. Steve, Justin and Bill were close behind.

"Move carefully." Bill cautioned. "Grain dust is highly flammable, any spark could ignite it."

Brian gently passed the unconscious boy to Bill who handed him off to Steve. Brian dug in a little more to reach John. Picking up the semi-conscious boy, Brian carried him out of the silo. Justin closed the door and followed the group to the bunkhouse.

Bill called for the local doctor to meet them all at Claire's. They all agreed that the boys would be more comfortable at her house. Getting the boys into Steve's pickup, Bill drove to Claire's.

"Brian, bring them upstairs to the guest room. There's an air-conditioner in that room. We can cool them off slowly while we wait for the doctor."

Brian stayed while the doctor examined the boys and other than a slight case of dehydration and a severe case of the frights, the boys were fine. The prescription was rest, plenty of fluids and when sufficiently recovered, a switch to the behind for being so foolish, scaring the be-jeezus out of everyone and nearly getting themselves killed.

Brian concurred with the rest and fluids but drew the line at the switch. The old doctor nodded then gratefully accepted a glass of iced tea and a plate of cookies from Claire before he left.

That night Brian kept vigil in the guest room.

The next morning John stirred first, cracking open an eye, only to find his Uncle Brian staring back at him with bloodshot eyes.

"W…Where are we?" John stammered.

"You're safe. You're at Claire's house; she's John's mother. How do you feel?"

"Okay, I guess. Peter! Is Peter okay?" John panicked looking at his sleeping brother.

"Yeah, don't worry. We had a doctor check you both out. What's the last thing you remember?"

"After breakfast, there was a lot of shouting. I guess we didn't shut the gate to the sheep pen good enough. They all got out. I thought we were going to be punished, so we hid. Uncle Brian, Peter didn't want to hide, he was going to confess. I made him hide in the silo. I got hot and I felt dizzy. I don't remember much more."

"You were missing for a long time and the silo had more grain put in it. If you weren't found when we..." Brian couldn't continue; the full impact of what might have been hit him. He shuddered then recovered enough to reassure the frightened boy. "It doesn't matter. The two of you are safe. I'll have your clothes brought here. I'll take you home tomorrow."

Before John could answer Brian got up and walked out of the room.

Justin, who had spent the night on the sofa, awoke when he heard Claire in the kitchen and helped her with breakfast. She was about to call Brian and check on the boys, when she saw Brian walk out of the house and keep walking until he reached the maple and the ladder for the treehouse. Instead of climbing up, Brian sat on the step and buried his head in his hands. Justin was about to go out to Brian when Claire stopped him.

"Justin, I'll go. Bill brought the boys' clothes. Why don't you take them up and show the boys where they can shower. Then bring them down for breakfast." Justin hesitated, he felt sure his partner needed him. "Justin, he does need you but right now I think he needs a mother more." Justin looked into Claire's eyes and saw the truth of what she had said. Reluctantly, he took the boys' bags and went upstairs.

In spite of the heat, Claire filled two mugs with strong coffee then went out to Brian.

"Here, I think you need this." Claire said as she handed Brian his mug of life.

"Thanks," Brian responded as he took the offered mug. "I'm going to take them home tomorrow. I should have never brought them here. They could have suffocated in that silo and it would have been all my fault." Brian's guilt was getting the better of him. The Pennsylvania countryside was about to experience a major Brian Kinney queen out.

"Brian, before you do anything too hasty, I suggest you ask Steve and Bill first and then ask your nephews if they want to leave. I know you said two weeks but Steve wanted a chance to meet their mother. He was making the arrangements before the sheep got out."

"Claire, I know you mean well but how can I keep them here. They could have died in there and no one would have known."

"Thanks to you, they didn't die."

"Thanks to me, they would have never been up here in the first place."

"Brian Kinney, I never thought you were a quitter!"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"How dare you quit on those boys now, just when they need you the most."

"Claire, they don't need me; they hate me. I represent everything that they hate. I'm a fag, and a fag with money."

"Brian, you're a strong, self made man, with a lot of love that you keep buried in your heart. Don't give up on them now. Jennifer and I had a long chat that night we first met. She told me about Justin, the bashing. Don't turn away, hear me out. Jennifer told me how during Justin's recovery he was angry, bitter and he had horrible mood swings. It was your patience, your love that helped him to overcome so much and recover."

"Did she also tell you that if it wasn't for me Justin may have never been bashed in the first place?"

"No, Brian, that's not true. That boy Chris had hate and fear in his heart. He would have done it sooner or later. He just chose that moment. This is the same thing. Your nephews are clouded by fear and hate. Something would have happened to them sooner or later. You saved Justin that night and you saved your nephews yesterday. Everyone knows that, and so will your sister. Everyone, except for you."

Brian gazed into Claire's reassuring eyes. The tears he thought he was fighting back, won. Claire held on to Jack's son as he cried in her arms.

It was some time before Brian was able to go back into the house and face his nephews. He grabbed some clothes to shower first before making any decisions.

Big John and Bobby had made themselves scarce. This was not the time to spring the whole truth on the boys. Justin got them showered and they were all eating breakfast in the kitchen when Claire came in.

"So, I see you two have made a considerable dent in my breakfast. I think it's about time we were formally introduced, don't you? My name is Claire Anderson, John is my son and this is my house. I expect you two to behave. I don't tolerate abusive or foul language, especially from youngsters like yourselves. While you are here you will treat my family with respect. Do I make myself clear?"

Mouths stuffed with buttery biscuits, John and Peter furiously nodded. John looked at Peter with horror in his eyes. It dawned on them that no matter how tough Steve was, Claire would be tougher. Going back to the farm was beginning to look appealing.

Finishing his biscuit and swallowing hard, Peter bravely asked, "Miss Anderson, what's going to happen to us today?"

"Well after breakfast, you two can help me clean up the kitchen. Brian was up for most of the night watching over you two. He was worried sick. If it wasn't for him, well I'd hate to think what would have happened if he didn't have the smarts to figure out where you two were hiding. Justin, maybe you can convince Brian to get some sleep. He can bed down in John's room. You look like you could use some more sleep too."

"I'm all right. I can take the boys to the stream for a while."

"Maybe later. Don't argue with me. Go lay down for an hour. Then you can take the boys."

"Okay. Thanks," Justin answered with a yawn. He left John and Peter to Claire while he went to find Brian and get him to lie down. Brian, too tired and too emotionally spent to argue, followed Justin to John's bedroom and then passed out.

Claire put the boys to work but made sure they didn't overdo and that they drank plenty of fluids to replenish all they lost from the previous day. A couple of hours later a refreshed Brian and Justin found the three busily baking cookies.

Brian stood at the kitchen door shaking his head. Even in the heat, Claire's cool head prevailed. He marveled as the spawn, without a whine or bad language, took Claire's direction. Again Claire worked her miracles. Seeing Brian smiling at the door, Claire suggested that the four go and cool off by the stream while she baked.

This time no one had any objections.

Justin grabbed his bag. He was thinking about Sidney Bloom's art show and thought he would submit a piece. Brian grabbed a small travel chess set in hopes of teaching Justin. Claire packed up several bottles of water, fruit and snacks for them to take. The four set off for the stream.

Finding a shady patch, they dumped their stuff, stripped down to their shorts and splashed at the water's edge to cool off. Justin, anxious to get started on a sketch, got out of the water first so he could get comfortable with his sketch pad. Peter followed and sat beside Justin.

"You can draw?"

"Yes, I can draw and I paint. There's an art show coming up soon, I want to submit a piece. Do you like to draw, Peter?"

Looking around to make sure no one was listening, Peter nodded and whispered, "Yes, I love to draw but I can't do it at home 'cause they think it's stupid. Sometimes I do it at school."

"I don't think drawing is stupid. Brian doesn't either. He can draw a little but his talents lay mostly in creating ads. He's like an artist when he puts an ad together, only he uses words as well as drawings. Would you like to draw something with me? I have another sketch book and more pencils."

The boy beamed and happily began to draw a nearby dandelion with Justin's direction.

Brian got out of the water and sat under a tree to dry off and have a smoke. Seeing his prospective chess partner occupied with a sketch pad, he sighed then set the travel chess set aside for later.

John walked up and plopped down. Spying the chess set, he ventured the question. "Fags know how to play chess?"

"Fags know how to do lots of things. You play?"

"A little, my father tried to teach me, before he left us."

"Set them up."

By the time all the water and snacks were finished, another sketch pad was filled and Brian won several games of chess.

"You played well," Brian complimented his nephew.

"Yeah, but you won every game."

"That's only because you haven't learned the strategies yet. You learn fast; you'll beat the pants off of anyone real soon." John looked at his uncle with clearer eyes. Brian didn't yell at him for what happened yesterday and he took genuine interest in teaching him the game. Maybe John's Uncle Fag wasn't all that bad.

Peter also had a great time. Justin loved to draw and was very enthusiastic about it. Peter felt he could talk to Justin about his love of art. Justin told Peter the story about the artist Kinney. It fascinated Peter that he had a famous ancestor. He wanted to go back to the house so he could see Claire's paintings. He was about to ask Justin if he could go to the art show when Brian and John walked up.

"Going to submit a piece for the art show?"

"I was toying with the idea."

"I think you should. It was your discovery that led to the show, to everything; your work belongs there. Maybe we can bring John and Peter to see their ancestor's paintings," Brian said.

Justin smiled one of his best at Brian, then packed up the sketch pads and pencils. When they got back to the house Steve was there. Steve, Claire, Brian, Justin and the boys sat in the living room to discuss their options.

"Brian, Claire tells me you want to bring the boys home tomorrow and that's within your rights as guardian but I think you may be doing them a disservice if you do. Before you protest, hear me out. I spoke with the boys' mother and suggested she spend some time with one of our counselors. I know what the boys did was foolish but I think they learned a valuable lesson." Steve paused to look at the boys. He saw them nod almost imperceptibly but a nod nonetheless.

"I don't want them in danger," Brian admitted to Steve and to himself.

"They won't be. Boys, would you come back to the farm? Your mother wants to come here this Wednesday. You'll go back with her on Sunday. I think you all will benefit from a few more days on the farm. Besides, you still owe Flossie an apology."

John and Peter looked at the adults waiting for their answer. Both boys were floored that they were being consulted and not told what to do. Peter spoke up first. "Steve, if I do all my chores, could I be allowed to draw?"

"I don't see why not. I think we have some art supplies," Steve answered with a hopeful grin on his face.

"There's an art supply store in town, I can pick up a few things," Justin offered.

"Thank you Justin, that's very generous of you," Steve countered then looked at Peter also expecting a 'thank you.'

Peter blushed but said, "Thank you."

All eyes were on John who sat quietly nibbling on a fingernail. "I guess if Mom is coming up here, we should stay. I don't want her to get mad at us," John said and frowned. It seemed his mother was always angry at them.

"John, I meant what I said. I'll take you home tomorrow if it's what you want," Brian reassured the boys in all sincerity.

"We'll stay," John mumbled, still feeling guilty for all the trouble they caused on the previous day.

"Well, since that's settled, let's eat lunch and then the boys will go back to the farm," Claire stated.

Justin added, "Brian, after lunch, would you come with me to town?"

Brian rolled his eyes, "I guess my credit card is getting another work out." Then he smirked with tongue in cheek. Justin elbowed Brian in the gut as Brian grabbed his boy and started to tickle him. Before an all out tickle war could commence, lunch was called.

"Come on, old man, let's eat. I'm hungry." Justin pulled Brian off the sofa.

"You're always hungry," Brian reiterated and followed Justin to the kitchen to help Claire set the table.

The nephews stood slightly in awe of what they had just witnessed. Brian wasn't angry at the way he was being teased by Justin and he willingly helped Claire without being asked. And if the boys had wanted, they knew Brian would have driven them back to Pittsburgh. Neither of the boys had ever seen Brian this way.

Brian looked up at the overwhelmed boys. Misunderstanding and thinking they weren't feeling well, Brian slowly approached and was prepared to help. "You guys okay? Do you need a nap or something? We can call the doctor."

John shook his head and sat at the table. Peter looked at Brian and said, "No, thank you. We're okay, just um, a little hungry." Peter wasn't able to say that he was beginning to like his Uncle Brian.

"Then let's eat and get going. There are some cows that need attention," Steve proclaimed.

Both boys paused from their lunch to answer, "Yes, sir." Then everyone continued with their meal. Steve gave Brian a little wink.