Page 104 of The Boy from Half Moon

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX: Luke

The drive to Half Moon Ranch found me a bit wistful as I made my way through Madras. My life there seemed like ages ago, yet the scars felt like it was just yesterday. The closer I got to my return, the more nervous I felt. Would I be welcomed?

The compound was four miles out of town after connecting with an unnamed graveled road leading to the ranch. Snow blew over the road and accumulated on the sides, building icy bridges across the hidden ditches. Would this be my last trip to Half Moon?

Central Oregon was as cold in the winter as it was hot in the summer. The Cascade Mountains to the west were completely covered and spectacular when the sun hit them briefly as it set behind them early this time of year.

What a difference six months had made in my life. Meeting Tate that day in the bakery, and falling in love at first sight, seemed like years ago, but thankfully we were still at the beginning of what I hoped would be a lifetime adventure.

After numerous inquiries with the new church leaders at the ranch, they agreed to allow me a family visit. I hadn’t seen Ma or David since before the trial. Their last memory of me was being led away in handcuffs. However, we had exchanged letters where I’d invited them to join Tate and me in Bend. So far, Ma had declined, saying David was welcome to make his own decision when he turned eighteen.

Brother John waved me through after checking the guest list at the gate. The church elders actually providing me the chance to be on that limited list still impressed me. They could have easily said no considering the crime I’d been associated with, but it appeared their Christian beliefs tempered their holding of a grudge.

“Nice to see you, Brother Luke,” he greeted when I rolled up. “Your mother will be pleased with your visit. God bless you, brother.”

“Thank you, brother,” I said.

Ma’s letters told the story of how her and David’s lives had improved since the passing of Franklin. The new leadership comprised men who had served with my father when he was alive, so I assumed they had more compassion toward my family than those before.

The old 4x4 truck I’d purchased for twelve hundred dollars carved through the small drifts of snow on the way up to the dorms. My childhood played through my mind like a movie reel as I made my way to the backside of the building where Ma’s dorm entrance was located.

How many times had I sledded down the hill I’d just driven up, dreaming of one day leading my extended family the way my father had? I wanted to be the type of man my pa was for as long as I could remember and hoped that I was fulfilling that dream now, even though I was no longer a member at Half Moon Ranch.

“Hey, Ma,” I said, standing in the hallway after she opened the door. I’d only been there a second and a half, and Ma was already crying. She folded herself into my arms and nothing was said as she wept. We didn’t need words on this reunion visit. We both knew the meaning of me standing there.

“David?” I asked, peering past her, and expecting my little brother to appear from the bedroom.

“Out,” Ma said, her eyes revealing to me that David was still causing her grief.

“It’s five degrees out there,” I pointed out.

“Doesn’t matter to him,” she responded. “He put a camp stove in that treehouse you boys built. He practically lives out there now.”

“Ma?” I whispered.

“I know,” she said, turning away and waving a dismissive hand over her shoulder. “The boy can’t stand you being away, son. That’s all it is,” she added, sitting in her chair, the one us boys used to wrestle to stay in when Pa caught us in his chair. I’ll never forget the first time Ma sat in it after Pa died. David, nor I, ever fought over the chair again.

“I’ll go out and get him while I’m still in my jacket.”

“Talk to him, Luke. Can you do that?” she asked. “The boy is lost.”

I pulled my stocking cap on. “I’ll try, Ma.”

Trudging through the snow, I had to pass the one building I’d never go in again for as long as I lived. The old barn stood where it had been for decades, a symbol of farming to most, a symbol of terror to me.

A wispy trail of smoke lifted above the treehouse in the distance, eventually disappearing into the frigid air. The surrounding ponderosa pine trees had fresh snow on the tips of their branches, while the grasses of the ranch had turned brown, the ones you could see, anyway. The scene was tranquil and peaceful, contradicting the anxiety I felt.

David left the ladder down. I’m sure he knew I was coming. Ma knew for two weeks already and must have reminded him that my visit was today. Perhaps this was his invitation to get back on track as brothers. Once at the top of the ladder, I tapped on the trapdoor. Shuffling above clued me in that David was indeed inside.

The trap opened, and I pulled myself up. David scooted into a corner. Our eyes met, but he remained quiet as I closed the small entrance and crawled to an opposite corner, less than four or five feet away.

I stared at him as he sat there, avoiding eye contact with me. “You’re bigger, baby brother,” I said.

“Not much,” he muttered, poking a piece of kindling against his jeans.

“Almost as big as me.”

“Not really,” he argued, quickly moving his eyes to his lap after I caught him looking at me. “Maybe because you don’t come round no more, I just seem bigger.”

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