The Pastor lifted his head from eating dinner at the sound of a motorcycle revving up. He scowled and hurried to the front door knowing that the Sheriff had intended on keeping Craven locked up overnight, and he was the only one in town with a motorcycle other than Jarrel, and his little scooter barely qualified.
Craven seeing his father on the front porch of the little home he had been raised in, which was attached to the small church on the green, purposely drove past to give his father the finger before peeling out and leaving a tire mark in the road in front of the church. He then sped up and popped a wheelie before heading down a small side road which led to the town junkyard. The trash was picked up by a city trash service and went to the city dump, but Land’s End had a small junkyard of its own which had scrap metal, brush, old broken appliances, and even a couple of broken down cars. It also had a small shack house which Aberly told Craven he could live in when he had left his home after his father had disowned him. The house wasn’t much, but it was dry and had a small wood heater to keep warm in the winter. There was no running water or electricity, but there was an outhouse, and a well and pump on the property for water, and Aberly had given Craven a couple of oil lanterns to see by. Craven had also saved up and purchased himself a small gas generator for running a few small appliances off of and for charging his cell phone.
The Pastor seeing the Sheriff come to his own front door at the sound of the motorcycle stormed over. “You let him go? Are you going to just stand there and let him tear up the road with that thing? He left a tire mark in front of the church. Isn’t that destruction of public property?” The Sheriff gave the Pastor a look of sheer annoyance. “Aberly let him out. You got a problem with that, go take it up with him. He’s on watch tonight.” The Sheriff then went back inside his home, shutting the door in the Pastor’s face, not in the mood for dealing with the man. Let Aberly deal with him.
Aberly having followed Craven outside and having overheard, being right next door the sheriff’s home at the station, responded in a gruff tone as the Pastor headed over to him. “Yes, I let him go, and no I’m not going to do anything about the tire mark in the road. And I’m going to tell you what I told Lance. If I see or hear of you beating on Craven again, I’m going to tell the city authorities the truth of what has been going on in this town. So, you just leave that boy alone.”
“He’s my son. I have a right to…” Aberly cut the Pastor off. “You disowned him, and he’s legally emancipated from you with the only stipulation that he resides here in Land’s End until he turns eighteen, which if I’m not mistaken is just around the corner. That means you lost any rights to discipline Craven. Not that I’d consider what you did to him anything short of abuse or outright assault and battery, and I’m sure SVU and Social Services would agree with me. Now is there anything else I can help you with, Pastor?”
The Pastor’s mouth dropped open, but nothing came out in the form of a verbal response. Aberly just crossed his arms and gave him a hard look to indicate that he wasn’t bluffing or accepting negotiations. So, the Pastor finally turned and headed home, furious, but unable to do anything about it.
“Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him rendered speechless,” Buford commented as he came out onto the sidewalk. “Now that’s a miracle.”
Aberly chuckled a little in response.
“Anyway, guess I’ll head home too. Hopefully, your message got through to my dad the same as the Pastor.”
Aberly nodded. “Trust me. It got through. He won’t hit you anymore.”