BLOODY PADRE

By Thad Buckley

As above, but while at the seminary, he has a dream, and travels north to an Indian reservation to get it interpreted. There, he discovers that his Spirit has been re-incarnated from a Great Hunter from years ago. Both he and the old Indian interpreter don't want to believe it, but finally must.
While in Korea, he goes across enemy lines with Turks at night to kill unsuspecting soldiers. Winter, he comes across a foxhole covered with a tarp for warmth, and stabs a young soldier in the throat. But the soldier looks like a picture of an Oriental Madonna he had seen, and he can't escape the image. An enemy barrage wounds him, and he ends up then in the Turkish hospital.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jun 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781098314347

Book preview

©2020 Thad Buckley. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

ISBN: 978-1-09831-433-0 (print)

ISBN: 978-1-09831-434-7 (ebook)

Contents

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 37

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 39

CHAPTER 40

CHAPTER 41

CHAPTER 42

CHAPTER 43

CHAPTER 44

CHAPTER 45

CHAPTER 46

CHAPTER 47

CHAPTER 48

CHAPTER 49

CHAPTER 50

CHAPTER 51

CHAPTER 52

CHAPTER 53

CHAPTER 54

CHAPTER 55

CHAPTER 56

CHAPTER 57

CHAPTER 58

CHAPTER 59

CHAPTER 60

CHAPTER 61

CHAPTER 62

CHAPTER 63

CHAPTER 64

CHAPTER 65

CHAPTER 66

CHAPTER 67

CHAPTER 68

CHAPTER 69

CHAPTER 70

CHAPTER 71

CHAPTER 72

CHAPTER 73

CHAPTER 74

CHAPTER 75

CHAPTER 76

CHAPTER 77

CHAPTER 78

CHAPTER 79

CHAPTER 80

CHAPTER 81

CHAPTER 82

CHAPTER 83

CHAPTER 84

CHAPTER 85

CHAPTER 86

CHAPTER 87

CHAPTER 88

CHAPTER 89

CHAPTER 90

CHAPTER 91

CHAPTER 92

CHAPTER 93

CHAPTER 94

CHAPTER 95

CHAPTER 96

CHAPTER 97

CHAPTER 98

CHAPTER 99

CHAPTER 100

CHAPTER 101

CHAPTER 102

CHAPTER 103

CHAPTER 104

CHAPTER 105

CHAPTER 106

CHAPTER 107

CHAPTER 108

CHAPTER 109

CHAPTER 110

CHAPTER 111

CHAPTER 112

CHAPTER 113

CHAPTER 114

CHAPTER 115

CHAPTER 116

CHAPTER 117

CHAPTER 118

CHAPTER 119

CHAPTER 120

CHAPTER 121

CHAPTER 122

CHAPTER 123

CHAPTER 124

CHAPTER 125

CHAPTER 126

CHAPTER 127

CHAPTER 128

CHAPTER 129

CHAPTER 130

CHAPTER 131

CHAPTER 132

CHAPTER 133

CHAPTER 134

CHAPTER 135

CHAPTER 136

CHAPTER 137

CHAPTER 138

CHAPTER 139

CHAPTER 140

CHAPTER 141

CHAPTER 142

CHAPTER 143

CHAPTER 144

CHAPTER 145

CHAPTER 146

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Although my name is the only one listed as author, many others have helped me, encouraged me, and taught me and so have had a hand in completing this book. I’d like to thank my wife for her patience and (mostly) ignoring the stacks of writing on my desk. My weekly writer’s support group, the INTERROBANGS, has given me invaluable feedback and suggestions that helped to improve the writing of this book.

CHAPTER 1

When people with no hope see a miracle coming, even in the distant future, their whole life changes.

My mother had given up. Things would never be different. She had gotten pregnant, in 1930, a good Catholic girl, in a very strict religious family. They abandoned her. So she married him, my father.

He a drinker and couldn’t keep a job. They moved in with his family. A little house on a small farm in east Minnesota. Dad would steal or borrow any money he could, get drunk, then come home and beat my mother. When he finished with her, he beat me.

When I was six, I started school at a one room shack. It had been a small barn, and when the owner died, his wife donated it to the county. They put in a wood stove, added desks, shelves and an outhouse with a door that wouldn’t close tight.

I found Dad and the teacher kissing behind the school house one day. He took me by the arm and gave it to me good. He said if I told mom, he’d put me in the barn stall with the bull, so I’d get gored. I told Mom I’d gotten into a fight. She knew it was a lie.

Once in a while he’d take us into town. Always on a Sunday. He’d drop us off at church to get rid of us for a while, then he’d go across the river to Wisconsin so he could drink. Usually, he would forget to pick us up. The priest would finally drive us home.

That’s when I noticed how everyone showed the priest respect. They were always nice to him. They even laughed at his jokes. I pretended to. They were stupid jokes.

I began to study the priest. He looked like he had plenty to eat. He had a car. I found out that he got his haircut for free, and someone else always shoveled the snow at the church in the winter. Some women always played cutesy when he was around, but that didn’t impress me. Not at age ten.

So one day, I changed my life. And my Mom’s. I looked at her and said, I want to be a priest when I grow up.

She stared at me. I could see her change. A priest. That would show her family. She would get some respect. The mother of a priest.

CHAPTER 2

There was no stopping her. I heard her arguing, no, telling my Dad. We’re moving into town. Any town, as long as it has a Catholic school. Billy is going to get all he needs to be a priest.

I enjoyed the attention. Dad’s family treated me better. Dad didn’t beat me as much, and the bruises were mostly hidden. Mom had become a tiger, and he didn’t know what she would do if she saw them.

We moved to town the next month. Ashwell, Minnesota. Population 1,367. At least that’s what the sign said. It sat on the west side of the Mississippi river.

Before the furniture was all in, Mom took me to the Catholic school and got me registered. I had never seen such a big school. Two stories with lots of windows, a playground in front big enough for a ball game. He’s going to be a priest, she told the nuns.

They smiled. How nice. Two other boys from this parish are priests. God is blessing us. We’ll take good care of Billy.

CHAPTER 3

The house we moved to sat on top of a hill. Across the street was a park with a tall, four-legged water tower. A ladder on one leg went all the way up to a walkway around the metal tank. In big black letters was the name, ASHWELL.

Next to the park was a cemetery.

The sidewalk in front of our house went down the hill and flattened out as it entered town. A thick lilac hedge ran along the sidewalk all the way to downtown.

The house next to us had only a basement, with a doorway that led to steps going down. It looked funny. Two little windows on each side.

All the yards were big and an alley ran behind them. There were no fences.

I helped Mom move in the furniture. Where’s your Dad? she asked.

He went down the hill this morning. Pretty early.

Her new hope extended even to Dad. Maybe he’s looking for a job. Wouldn’t that be nice?

I just looked at her, seeing the pain in her eyes, and turned away so she wouldn’t see my face. We both knew where Dad had gone.

I hated him.

Later that day, I went exploring. I walked through the park, then around the cemetery. When you’re a kid, cemeteries are scary. As I came around to our street again, a boy about my age stood watching me. He lived just two houses from where we moved to.

You the new kid? he asked.

Yes. We just moved in. Over there.

I know where. I’ve been watchin’. I’m Jake. This is my block, so you better be careful.

Your block? I don’t know what you mean.

You dumb, or what. This block is mine. You gotta do what I say. When I say. Or you get beat up.

I looked him over. A little bigger than me. Dark hair, brown eyes. His fists clenched.

My name is Billy. We lived on a farm, so I don’t know about some of this stuff. My Dad beats me up almost every day, so you don’t scare me. I pointed down the hill. We moved here so I could go to the Catholic school. The big one.

Oh, yeah? My school’s bigger. The Protestant school. You seen it yet?

No. Really, it’s bigger?

Lots. So. You’re a catlicker. Sorry for you.

What’s a catlicker?

You don’t know much. Catholic. Catlicker. Get it?

Oh. So you must be a puplicker. Right?

Jake tried to look mad. You be careful. Like I said, this is my block.

Oh, right. Say, you got any piglickers on your block?

He backed up a step. What’s a piglicker?

Well, we had pigs on the farm. You got Catholics and Protestants here. You got any pigs?

Jake grinned. I like you some, for a Catholic. You want to be friends?

Sure. I ain’t got any yet in town.

Jake spit on his hand and held it out. Shake.

I looked at him. How come you spit on your hand? I’m not shaking that.

He looked surprised. You really are dumb. You know, in the movies, the Indians make blood brothers with some white men, they cut their hand, and shake on it? Well, I’m not going to cut myself for nobody. So, it’s kinda like blood brothers.

Thinking about it, I decided I could always wash my hand later. Okay. I spit on my hand, and we shook.

You want to see how big my school is? Jake asked.

Sure, let’s go.

We walked down the hill, laughing about piglickers. It felt good to have a friend. Being the only kid on a farm gets boring. If I ever said something stupid like piglickers to Dad, he’d have beat me bad.

Someday I’m going to kill him.

CHAPTER 4

Jake and I were soon inseparable. When my chores were done, I’d run over to his place. Mom hated it, me hanging out with a Protestant. He’s a bad influence. In a way, she was right. Jake’s Dad and mine soon became drinking buddies. They hung out at their favorite bar, Jo-Jo-s, down the hill, a few blocks more, and left two blocks.

It wasn’t long, and Jake and I took to hiding under the lilac hedge at the top of the hill, watching our Dads trying to climb up. They always stood at the bottom, looking up, mumbling about the best way to get up. They’d sit under a tree talking about it, then they staggered, slipped, and fell as they cursed that damn hill. Eventually, they made it to the top, often so breathless they had to stop and lean against a tree before continuing on. We kept hoping they’d fall, or get hurt, so they wouldn’t come home.

Jake came up with the idea. What if we did something so they’d get hurt coming up the hill? Maybe they’d have to go the hospital or something. Then they couldn’t come home for a while. Maybe weeks.

That’d be great. We have to be careful though. If they find out it’s us, we’d be the ones in the hospital. Dad would probably kill me.

With two great ten year old minds working on a problem, how could we fail? We came up with ideas that kept us laughing for hours.

The first thing we tried almost got us in trouble. We borrowed, well, stole Joey Fenster’s wagon. He hardly used it and always left in in his front yard. We took it one evening about dark so no one would see us, then we hid it in the cemetery behind a big headstone with angels on it. I made the sign of the cross, so it would be okay.

The next day we put a big rock in the wagon and pulled it to the lilac hedge at the top of the hill. We took the rock out and set it near the sidewalk. Then we hid under the hedge for at least an hour waiting. Finally, we saw them. Actually we heard them first, singing some stupid song about bananas. They quit when they got to the hill, and looked up. Then they started up. They always stared at the ground and grabbed at trees or the hedge for help.

We pushed the rock out onto the sidewalk and gave it a shove. Trouble started right away. The rock wasn’t round. We thought it would just roll straight down the hill, and hopefully send them both to the hospital. But it started to wobble, and soon it was bouncing along the sidewalk, going side to side on the way down. About half way there it tore right through the hedge and continued careening down the street. We watched, our eyes and mouths wide open, as the rock hit a light pole on the left, spun, and bounced toward a parked car on the right. It barely missed the car and sped up more. It hit the right side curb, flew into the air, back through the hedge, and banged back onto the side walk.

By then, our Dads had gotten tired and were sitting down under a tree near the hedge. The rock sped by them and finally came to a stop about a block past the bottom of the hill. They must have heard something, but never mentioned it.

We just ran back to the park, laughing and scared.

Mr. Fenster told the police that Joey’s wagon was stolen, and the shoe store in town complained about somebody putting a rock in front of their door, blocking it.

Cops in small towns know what’s going on. They found the wagon at the top of the hill, and helped move the rock to the edge of the sidewalk across from the shoe store’s door. They went to Joey’s house and questioned him. He’d been in trouble before, but they finally believed him. They also knew about our dads, two of the town drunks.

One afternoon, a tall man pulled his car over at the park, and walked over to us. He didn’t dress like a cop, but he showed us his badge. He sat down on the grass.

I’m Officer Browning. I know who you both are. I know everybody in town. You probably heard, there was some trouble a few days ago. I’m not saying you had anything to do with it. I just want to tell you something. He took his hat off.

When I was a kid, my dad was a drunk. Like yours. I hated the son-of-a-bitch. One day, while he beat on one of my brothers, I got our shotgun down. I yelled, and pointed it at him. He just laughed and pushed the gun barrel away. It went off and hit my brother. He lost his leg. Nodding, he looked at his hands.

I think about that every day. My brother wanted to be a ball player. He was real good. Now he works at a bank. Hates it. He hasn’t talked to me in years. Life.

He stood up. Now I don’t blame you for trying to hurt your dads, if you boys did it. I’m just telling you to be careful so no one else gets hurt. That rock could have killed someone .You look like good kids.

He put his hat back on. Good to meet you boys.

We watched him walk away. I guess we better be careful, Jake said. But I do have some other ideas.

We gotta be real careful. I looked at Jake. I’m gonna be a priest. If I get in trouble, they might not take me.

He just looked at me, shaking his head. A priest. No way.

CHAPTER 5

The start of school interrupted our planning. Some. After school, I had to stay late on Tuesdays to learn enough Latin to be an altar boy, then go home and do my chores. Dad was never at home so Mom and I had some good talks. After supper, I could finally get out, and usually found Jake at the park, waiting. Once in a while, when school let out, he’d be waiting across the street, when he had a new plan to discuss.

We reviewed some more plots we had come up with. A hornet hive. If we could get one without getting stung. We never figured that one out. If we got even one sting, our Dads would know we did it.

We did collect dog shit for two days and spread it under the trees at the bottom of the hill where they usually sat down. That one worked great. But our Moms had to wash their pants.

We were having fun, but we hadn’t yet come up with something to put them in the hospital.

CHAPTER 6

I was having some trouble at school. Arithmetic. And I wasn’t motivated. Why would a priest ever need arithmetic? Sister Margaret loved to ask me for answers in class. When my answer was wrong, she slapped her pointer on her desk. You have to study, Billy. Every evening. All the kids in class laughed at me. Except one.

She sat just a few seats ahead of me. Cecelia. One day at morning recess, she walked over. I can help you, if you want.

I looked at her. Blonde. Pig-tails, big blue eyes. Skinny like me. Why?

I don’t like the way they laugh at you. That’s mean.

That’s Sister Margaret’s fault. She likes it. I hate bullies. I turned toward Cecelia. She is a bully.

I know. She has favorites, too. The ones who never make any trouble. And study.

Aren’t you one of them?

No. I corrected her once in class. Smiling, she continued. I love arithmetic. It’s easy for me. You’re Billy, aren’t you? I’m Sissy.

Sissy? I thought . . .

My real name is Cecelia. I don’t like it. I have an Aunt Cecelia. She’s fat. So, if you want, we can meet out here for lunch, then go to the library to study. Want to?

Sure. I can use some help. I didn’t tell her that I usually didn’t have anything to eat at lunch.

Sissy never asked about my lunch, but soon there was an extra sandwich, a cookie, and sometimes an apple in her lunch box.

Mother said she has too much food in the house. She’s happy you eat it for us.

I learned a lot about arithmetic, and about Sissy. We hung out together at school. On Tuesdays, when I stayed for a Latin class, she usually had piano lessons. If we got out at the same time, I walked her home. She lived only a block from school. Her mother often came out and invited me in, or sent some cookies home with me. A neat lady.

One Tuesday, Latin class ended and I heard Sissy yell, Leave me alone! Three boys surrounded her on the playground, jumping up and down. Sissy, Sissy, give me a kissy. C’mon, Sissy.

I ran over. It was Larry Carlson, the biggest boy in class and his two followers. I pushed one aside, took Sissy’s hand, and said, Let’s go. I’ll walk you home.

Oh, no. Larry grabbed my arm Not until I get a kissy from Sissy. He gave me a shove, then grabbed Sissy by the hair. Give me a kiss. I bet you kiss Billy’s willy.

I punched him in the face, then again in the chest when he turned to me. He fell back on his rear. Now I’m mad, he said. Real mad.

Grab him. He stood up. His friends tried to hold me, but couldn’t.

Run home, Sissy, I yelled. Larry came at me like a bull. I stepped aside and kicked his leg as he went by. He fell down again.

I’ll get him, Larry. One of his friends tried to hit me, and I gave him a bloody nose. Larry stood up. I’m gonna beat you up, you shithead. He came at me slower, swinging at me. I backed up. Look out, Billy, Sissy said. I’d forgotten about his friends. They came at me from behind and each grabbed an arm. Larry punched me in the chest, then the face. I tried to pull away from the two holding me, and we all fell to the ground. Larry sat on my stomach, and started punching me. Give, Billy. Then you can get up.

Sissy was screaming.

Larry hit me. Give, Billy. Another punch.

Billy doesn’t give, I heard. Then Larry screamed and held his arm. It’s broke. I think it’s broke. Jake kicked him again. It better be, ‘cause I’m going to break the other one, too. Larry rolled off of me, holding his arm.

Jake looked at the other two. I know where you two live. You know where the cemetery is? You mess with Billy again, that’s where you’ll be living. Larry got up and ran off.

Sissy helped me up. She and Jake each held an arm until I quit shaking. Jake grinned. Three to one. You’re kinda dumb, Billy. But you did good. Oh, oh, here comes trouble.

Sister Margaret was walking toward us.

CHAPTER 7

Billy, you’re a troublemaker. I saw you hit Larry, before he hit you. And you want to be a priest? You’re going have to change.

Sissy got mad. Those boys were teasing me, and wouldn’t let me go. Larry said something bad to me. It was really bad. That’s why Billy hit him. And Billy’s bleeding. We have to fix him.

Sister Margaret looked at me. Maybe you’ll learn from this, Billy. She turned to Jake. And who might you be, young man? And why did you get involved? You kicked Larry. I should call the police. Where do you go to school?

Jake stared at her. The Protestant school. You know, the big new school on Elm? You were looking at them fighting from that window up there. Why didn’t you stop them? You didn’t come out until I stopped the fight.

Don’t you sass me. Billy, you shouldn’t be hanging out with Protestants. They’re a bad influence. I’ve a notion to talk to both your fathers.

Jake smiled. I hope you do. Just go three blocks that way, turn right, go two more blocks. I’m not sure, but you’ll probably be the only nun in the whole saloon.

Sissy pulled on my arm. Let’s go. Billy. You’re still bleeding.

We left Sister Margaret standing there.

CHAPTER 8

Sissy’s mother had a fit. Billy, sit here. Cecelia, get a wash basin. Warm water and a cloth. You mean to tell me that Sister Margaret just watched the fight? While that blob Larry sat on him, punching him? Wait until I see her.

She started to clean the blood from my nose. I must have winced.

Mother, you’re hurting him. Let me do it.

Cecelia? You’ve always been afraid of blood. You’re sure?

Yes. I’ll do it. It’s Billy’s blood. She barely touched my face with the cloth. He was so brave, mother. There were three of them. He fought all three.

Yes. Thank God Billy was there. And that Jake came when he did. Billy, take your shirt off. It’s got blood all over, and your mother will have a fit if she sees it. I’ll give it a quick wash.

She pulled my shirt up over my head and gasped. Where did you get all those bruises? Not from this fight. Billy, what’s going on?

From his Dad. Jake said. We both get beat up by our Dads. Billy more than me. They’re just mean.

I can’t believe a father would do this. What kind of a man is he?

We’re going to get even, Jake replied. We’re working on it.

Sissy started to cry. You never told me, Billy. You should have.

Be quiet, Cecilia. Jake, I’m going to put Billy’s shirt in some cold water. Take your shirt off, too, Jake. I want to see what’s happening.

She came back in a few minutes, and looked Jake over. You have long welts and bruises.

That’s because my dad uses his belt on me. Billy’s dad punches and pinches him.

This is awful. I’m going to get my camera and take some pictures. This has to stop.

CHAPTER 9

Two days later, during English class, Sister Theresa came into the room and whispered in Sister Margaret’s ear. Sister Margaret smiled. Larry, you and Billy are to come with me. To Father Brown’s office.

What about me? Sissy stood up. I was there and saw it all.

No one asked for you. Stay here.

As the three of us were walking down the hall, we saw Sissy run out the door and toward home. I told her to stay. She’s been in trouble ever since you got here, Billy. Sister Margaret fumed. I’ll fix her.

We walked into Father Brown’s office. Larry’s Dad sat near the desk, smiling. Father Brown gestured. Sister Margaret, sit there. You boys can stand.

Larry’s two friends stood near the window.

We heard some noise outside, and Sissy and her mother walked in.

Well, Father Brown said. I don’t believe you were invited to this meeting.

You’re right, Father. We weren’t. But I’m afraid you’ll have to listen to both sides of the story. Sissy’s mother crossed her arms. My daughter was there, being harassed by this ---young man, she pointed at Larry, and Billy came to her defense. I’m here to make certain you hear the story correctly.

I’ve heard Mr. Berson’s version, and it agrees with what Sister Margaret told me. Do you have a different version?

I suspect so, Father. Larry and his two friends were harassing my daughter when Billy saw what was happening. When he tried to help Cecelia, Larry said something extremely filthy to her. That’s when Billy hit him. She glared at Larry. "Should I tell