Page 17 of The Boy from Half Moon

“Easy for you to say, Luke. You’re the boy every girl wants to marry.” He let out a long sigh. “Me? Not so much,” he said, biting his lower lip. “None of the girls like me that way.”

I was surprised to hear him speak about such things. Young men were not allowed to speak about courting, marrying, and certainly nothing to do with the girls on the ranch.

“And how exactly do you know that?” I grilled, being careful to keep him on the straight and narrow. According to Franklin, our job as the older boys, meaning over the age of eighteen, was to keep the younger boys’ thoughts pure and godlike. I wondered what God thought about Franklin’s behavior.

“I ask them if they like me enough to marry,” he replied.

I gawked at him like he’d sprouted a second head. Grabbing his shoulders, I got in his face. “Listen to me,” I hissed, glancing side to side to make sure we were alone. “Never, ever, speak to the girls about such things. Do you hear me?”

“Geesh, Luke. Calm down,” he stated, twisting away so I’d loosen my grip on his shoulders.

“I mean it, Josiah. If Franklin got wind of this offense you’d be in a heap of trouble,” I stated.

“And then what’s gonna happen?” he asked sarcastically. “A trip to the barn?”

My blood froze. I’d often worried whether other boys suffered at Franklin’s hands like I did. Considering that keeping David in line and away from Franklin was my full-time job, the other boys were the last thing I needed to worry about. It wasn’t like I had extra time for another job, but protecting my younger brother was mostly all I thought about.

I moved to within inches of Josiah’s face, securing his wrists with my hands. “What do you know about the barn?” His eyes widened, and he appeared frightened by my sudden stern behavior. “I asked you a question. What do you know about the barn?” I repeated.

“I heard you get disciplined in the barn,” he whispered, trying to pull away from my grip. “You probably get a whoopin’.”

“Have you been disciplined in the barn?” I questioned, my heartbeat pausing while I waited for his response.

“No,” he answered.

My pulse steadied, and I let go of him. “Good. Keep it that way. Burn that magazine you have and stop asking the girls those sorta questions. You understand me?”

“You mad at me now, Luke?”

“No, but I will be if you don’t remember our rules. Next time you feel like asking a question, you come see me.”

He stared directly at me, his lips quivering before his eyes filled. “I saw something at the big barn,” he mumbled, looking down at the floor and wringing his hands. “Joey Martin and Franklin were inside for a long while, then Joey came out last and he was crying.”

I placed a hand on his knee and held it there. I could feel him trembling. I was trembling. “What did Joey say?” I asked.

“Joey wouldn’t say anything,” he replied. “He got one of those bad whoopins, didn’t he?”

“He probably did,” I fibbed. “Franklin’s a big man, Josiah. Make sure you don’t misbehave.”

I was about to remind Josiah about a few more areas he needed to improve on. Things like his work effort and lines he better not be crossing, when the bell at the front door rang, alerting us to a customer.

“You want me to go up front?” he asked, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

I tousled his hair and smiled. “You finish your lunch. I got this one.”

When I reached the swinging doors to the showroom, Josiah spoke up. “Why do some boys get taken to the barn for punishment, and some of us don’t?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” I stated, leaning against the doorframe, my back to him as I gathered my calm. “Maybe some of them are violating rules.” The anxiety monster that lived just behind my well-crafted demeanor knocked on my brain. ‘There’re more boys, Luke.’ I focused on breathing as I fought the rising fear racing through my veins as it made its way to my brain. Breathe. Focus.

His question stabbed me directly in the heart. Now I had more things to worry about. More boys. More nightmares. More anxiety.

I pushed the swinging doors open and came face to face with the man who said I could call him Tate.

CHAPTER ELEVEN: Tate

We stared at one another, him seemingly in disbelief that I was standing there. My heart flipped when it received the message from my brain. You like him a lot, don’t you? Luke was as stunning to look at as my constant imagining had remembered. What felt like an eternity, but was actually just a moment, passed before Luke broke the staring contest and lowered his eyes, something he often did.

“Hi, Luke,” I said.

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