I don't own any of the Kents or the mysterious visitor. This story is for entertainment purposes only so please read and be entertained. :)

"Let us stand for our first hymn!"

Clark stood, grinning ear to ear, and turned to the right page before freezing. Mrs. Gresytone had whispered loudly a few pews behind him. "Isn't the baby the Kents' found a decade ago growing up to be so handsome!"

As Mrs. Greenbough shushed her going-deaf friend, Clark smile melted away. His shoulders fell a bit before a big rough hand clapped one. His sky blue eyes looked up into his pa's hazel ones. The farmer's deep voice gave a rumble. "Come on. Take a deep breath, so you can sing, and perk up boy!"

Clark did, but his mind wouldn't stay on the song and his mouth wouldn't stay smiling. According to his classmate Paul Banks, he'd been dumped in the back of a dusty pick-up truck by parents who'd known he'd grow up to be weak and ugly. According to everyone else, he was a miracle. Two of the best Smallville had to offer, kind Christian folks, had asked this very congregation, in this very church, every Sunday and Wednesday service for years, to ask God to give them a child.

Maybe an angel had dropped him off. Maybe God had moved the heart of his troubled birth mother to put him in the Kents' truck. Who knew? Perhaps only God did now. But pretty much everyone, except Paul Banks, was thrilled he'd been added to the Kent family and this congregation. The judge's decision to let the Kents keep him, when no one came to claim him for years had been a cause for celebration complete with cake in the church basement. So, why had his birth parents given him away? Why had they put him in the back of a truck and left without making sure he'd be okay? His ma and pa had only found him there after driving down the road for hours after leaving a gas station, when he'd finally started crying. His pa might say it was an early sign of his uncomplaining nature he'd waited so long to holler. Still, Clark knew he wasn't really good enough to have come straight from heaven.

After "Sweet Hour of Prayer" and "What A Friend We Have in Jesus," had been sung, the sermon started. It was on Moses, and how after fleeing Egypt and Pharaoh, he became a stranger in a strange land tending sheep. At least Moses had known where he'd come from though, both as a baby and before he ran away. Still ... Clark mulled it over and guessed it "Would" have to be hard to not know your neighbors. He may not know his birth parents, but he knew about everybody within a couple hour's drive of his home. He even knew them not just on sight, but by their voices too. They always recognized him just as easy.

He heard the door of the church open and close. He turned in his pew and raised his eyebrows at the sight of a stranger, tall and muscled. His face kinda sagged. Big brown eyes scanned everyone and everything. Then the man sat in an empty spot in the back. He seemed to watch the preacher and listen to the sermon most of the time, but his gaze turned to other listening heads at times. Clark thought he heard and definitely saw the big man sigh once or twice.

Then Clark heard his pa tell him to turn back around and pay attention to the pastor. So, he took his eyes off the stranger and obeyed his pa. Right after the congregation was dismissed, though, Clark jumped up and ran toward the back of the building. The pastor had said they ought, like Jethro, Moses' father-in-law, to be hospitable to strangers. He might as well start now. And here was an opportunity!

"Hey there!" Clark rocked back on his heels after sprinting to stop just in front of the now standing stranger. Clark stuffed his hands in his dress pants pockets and smiled up at the big man. The stranger stared down at him without saying a word, blinking only once. Clark felt his pa step up behind him and saw as well as felt an arm stretched out over his head to shake the stranger's hand. He heard his pa's deep voice say "Johnathan Kent."

The big man finally took his eyes off Clark to look up as his pa. Then the stranger put his own hand out to shake Johnathan Kent's. "Uh ... I'm Moses."

Clark looked up to see his pa raise his eyebrows. He then looked back to the stranger to see a smile finally quirk up the corners of the big man's mouth a bit. "Shepherd."

Pa laughed aloud. Then ma stepped up to her husband's side. He introduced her to the stranger. Clark listened as they talked about the weather, where Moses Shepherd had just come from, and what work he'd done before. He'd been working on a dairy farm in Iowa a few weeks before and was looking for work in their area now. Pa offered to let him work with their cows since his bad knee had been acting up a whole lot in the damp spring weather. Hopefully, the rain would be good for the crops, though.

Moses agreed. He came home with them in the back of the truck. He'd walked for hours just to reach the church after being dropped off on a highway a ways to the east after hitchhiking there.

They ate meatloaf, green beans, and homemade bread for dinner. There was lots of milk too. Moses ate four helpings of everything. After he went out to sleep in a spot they had set up in the hayloft for farmhands, Pa said he hoped he'd work hard for them after all the food he ate. Ma swatted Pa with a dishtowel, but she was smiling. Clark laughed.

The next day, Moses did work hard. The cows seemed calmer and happier around him than they'd ever been before. Pa said Moses Shepherd had a gift and should be called "Moses Cowherd." Clark felt happier around him too. Moses wasn't cheerful, like him or Pa exactly. He spoke in a soft, low, deep voice almost never raising it. When he did smile you knew he really was happy. He stayed the whole rest of the spring and that summer. Things started to happen to Clark that summer.

He started to lift things, and his pa would see him and say, "watch it boy," and try to take them from him. Then he'd say back "I got it Pa." And he really did. He'd start running somewhere and have to sway back on his heels cause he was there several seconds before he thought he'd be. He would look at something that used to seem fuzzy from where he was standing just that winter and see it perfectly clear. The longer he stood in the sunshine the better he felt even when his pa was panting and smeared with dirt and sweat. At times like that, Pa would look at him while wiping his own forehead with his handkerchief and say, "I don't know what I'd do without you and Moe, Boy." By then they'd all started to call Moses "Moe."

Their cowhand still ate a great deal, but he still also kept not only the cows, but the chickens and barn-cats calm. Clark was impressed. Chicken and cats were such skittish critters. The flapping running clucking chickens were much louder about their skittishness, though. The felines could streak off without making a sound only to look back from some dark corner with wide golden eyes. Moe could get them purring by rubbing them on the head after approaching them. They wouldn't so much as swish their tails let alone hiss at him. They just "waited" for the big man's hand to pet them.

Then it got to be harvest time. Moe helped them some with that too, though he didn't like to work on the tractor much. That was okay. Clark and his pa liked doing that. They were kind of experts on its old breaking parts. Pa kept saying he wanted a new one, though, if God would provide the miracle to help them afford it.

Then, the air grew crisp. They all started wearing jackets and sweaters. Clark began to feel not as good as he had all that summer. His appetite picked up again after his ma had been worried about how it had slacked off for him, when he was a growing boy. Pa had told her not to worry since their son was still able to put in so much hard work while remaining his smiling self. Also, it had helped them afford to feed Moe.

Still, Clark knew his parents would be upset too, when, near the end of harvest, after pa had been saying they might keep Moe on so's he wouldn't have to walk across an icy yard before sunup to milk cows, Clark walked in on Moe packing. Clark's brow furrowed. "Moe?"

The big man turned and looked over his shoulder at him eyes wide. "Clark!"

"What are you doing?"

The big man turned around swinging a bag over his shoulder and standing straight. "I've got to leave."

Clark started. His back went straight and eyes wide. "Why? It's not even trip-to-town day. Pa doesn't have your pay!"

Moe stood straight and gave a large sad-eyed stare. "I've got to go Clark. I'll tell your pa it's alright. I knew it wasn't his day to town let alone the bank." He started to stride by the boy who turned and followed him across the yard.

"But Pa said you could stay! Even through the winter and maybe next year! What about the cows?"

The big farmhand answered him without looking back. "I'm sorry Clark. I can't stay." He opened the screen door, which protested with a long squeak. Clark's parents turned toward Moe. Clark watched the big man stare sadly back. "Mr. and Mrs. Kent. I need to leave."

Both Ma and Pa's eyes widened. Pa spoke first. "Why? I don't even have your pay."

Mrs. Kent put down the loaf of bread she'd taken from the oven. "It's not town day."

"I know. I don't mind. I have to go."

Mrs. Kent straightened and looked at him sadly. "Can't you stay for supper?"

He should his head. "Sorry Mrs. Kent. It's urgent."

Jonathan Kent stood up. "How do you know? The phone hasn't rung and no one's stopped by."

The big man sighed. "I've got a feeling. I need to listen to it."

Mrs. Kent took a step toward him. "At least let me make you a sandwich."

The man paused for about three seconds. Then he nodded. "Alright. If ... I can talk to Clark outside a moment."

Clark turned and looked up at him with wide eyes. "Me?"

Pa frowned. The big man looked Clark's pa in the eye. "Please."

Pa Kent frowned deeper, but then said. "Stay where I can see ya both."

The big farmhand nodded, turned and went out the door. Clark followed on his heels. They both stopped several of Moe's long strides' from the kitchen window through which Pa frowned at them. Moe got on one knee and placed a hand on Clark's shoulder using the youth's chest to block his face as he bent over. The sound of Mrs. Kent shutting drawers came from the kitchen. Moe met Clark's wide-eyed gaze.

"Clark. I'm not human."

Clark started. "Huh?"

"I am not 'human' Clark."

Clark grinned. "Good one Moe."

Moses lifted the hand not gripping Clark's shoulder holding it between them and out of sight of his pa still watching from the window. Suddenly, like melting snow, the rough skin turned green and a slightly different texture not scaly, or fuzzy, maybe softer and squishier though not smooth or shiny. Clark's eyes grew wide. He stepped back. The green hand seemed to remelt or reform back into the human one he knew, and Moe continued, "I'm not a human but a Martian. And Clark ... You aren't human either."

What do you think?

I know it's a lot of changes being my own DCU headcanon. So, did you love or hate them?

God bless

ScribeofHeroes