Page 77 of The Boy from Half Moon

“None of that will matter now, Luke,” she said, staring blankly past me and toward the barn. “The devil is dead.”

And after that pronouncement, she turned and walked toward the dorms. My mother had held her tongue about any subject that could jeopardize her or her family’s well-being after my father died. Not once had she suggested his death wasn’t an accident. Never had she questioned Franklin’s wisdom as our new leader, so now she unloads all that? What did she know?

I remained glued to my spot as the police came and went, and more whispering spread like wildfires, the midday sun beating down on me. This was a dark day on Half Moon Ranch indeed. And something our people worried the most about was happening. Lawmen from the outside world were on our land.

I was mesmerized by the police officers and a man in a suit who’d arrived in an unmarked black sedan. He was asking questions and sniffing around the barn, a small notepad and pen in his hands. Mystery man spoke to several community members, careful to lean in and listen to their quiet words. Our members had been warned about the outsider’s laws, trained to say little to nothing if ever accosted. I doubted the man in the black suit learned much.

As I was about to head to the dorms to check on Ma and David when I noticed Josiah was being spoken to by the lawman in the suit. I stopped and watched them for about three seconds before Josiah raised his arm and pointed in my direction.

That couldn’t be good.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE: Tate

My cell phone buzzed several times before I realized I wasn’t dreaming. I reached for it, turning the screen to face me. The caller was listed as unknown.

“Hello?” I answered, attempting to clear my scratchy voice.

“Will you accept a call from the Jefferson County Jail?” an obviously recorded female voice asked. “Press 1 for yes, or…” I cut her off with a quick press of the number one.

“Tate?” my body froze the moment I heard his voice. “This is Luke, Tate. I need you real bad.”

Every feeling I’d spent three weeks pretending wasn’t there came flooding back in an instant. “Are you in jail?” I asked, sitting up in bed. I checked the time on my phone; a quarter-to-four in the very early morning.

“Someone shot him,” Luke whispered. “I told them it wasn’t me, Tate, but they don’t believe me.”

“Who was shot, Luke?”

“Franklin,” he whispered, either keeping his voice low or someone was near him.

“Listen, Luke. Listen very carefully. I want yes and no answers only from now on during this call. I’m sure we’re being recorded, so nothing more. Say yes if you understand me.”

“Yes.”

“Are there people with you right now?”

“Yes.”

“Good, Luke. Very good,” I soothed. “Now here is what you are going to say to them while I’m on the phone with you. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Tell them you have nothing further to say until your attorney arrives. Do you understand me?”

“Yes.”

“Say it now.”

I listened carefully as Luke took his time, repeating exactly what I’d said to him. There was a lot of speaking in the background before he came back on the line.

“They want me to sign a paper, Luke. I don’t understand what it says.”

“Sign nothing. Say nothing. Am I clear? Not a goddamned thing, Luke.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be there in less than an hour,” I assured him. “Are you physically okay?” I asked, speaking more like a person who cared for him than the asshole I was about to be when I arrived at the jail.

“Yes.”

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