Page 4 of The Boy from Half Moon

“But…” I began. He hurried away, disappearing behind the swinging doors. I stood motionless for a moment until I noticed the entire crew of workers suddenly scatter, appearing panicked by something. The scene was eerie and like watching a flock of chickens spot a hawk above before making a mad dash for the chicken coop.

Turning away from the counter and heading to my car, I was met at the door by an extremely large man dressed in a black suit, wearing a black cowboy hat. He had to be a half foot over six feet, and a minimum of three hundred pounds of solid brute strength. He had a smile on his face that said, ‘It’s plastered here for effect only. Stay the fuck back.’

I backed out of his way and watched as he strode across the room, not looking at anyone, before passing through the same swinging doors as my dream boy had. Nobody besides me and the staff even gave him a second glance. Who was this intimidating man?

CHAPTER TWO: Luke

“Franklin just walked in!” I yelled, bursting through the doors to the kitchen.

Sister Mary Ellen straightened her apron, taking a quick look around the room at the other workers, making sure everyone was wearing appropriate clothing. I grabbed my younger brother David and buttoned his top button.

“What have I told you, David?” I hissed under my breath. “Never unbutton this.”

“It’s too tight on me, and it’s hot back here,” he complained.

I gripped his arms tightly and got directly in his face. “Never. Do you hear me?” He nodded and wiggled free. “Hurry to the cooler and stay inside until I come to get you,” I instructed.

David shouldn’t have been in the kitchen, or the bakery for that matter, so he did as I said while I nervously watched the swinging doors, waiting for Franklin to make his way to the kitchen. Knowing him and his twice daily rounds, he was most likely inspecting the dining area and the female workers up front before the backroom. I was wrong. He appeared seconds after I arrived to warn the others.

Thankfully, I wasn’t caught ringing out the last customer in front because he would’ve come down on me hard. Men didn’t do women’s jobs as far as he was concerned, requiring the boys and men to slave over the ovens and stock the storerooms and coolers. The modestly dressed women were the face of the food businesses our community owned and operated, not the men. The men were at the gas stations and in manufacturing.

Franklin walked into the kitchen, and we all held our breath. We never knew what version of our most-esteemed elder we’d get with each visit. He was an imposing figure, strolling through businesses he viewed as his personal bank. We never questioned his spending habits or reasoning, even though no other members were allowed the same privileges he enjoyed.

The five of us in the kitchen, one hiding in the cooler per my demand, stood quietly as he walked around the large center table where the dough was kneaded and ingredients mixed. I spotted smeared butter on one corner that had not been wiped clean as he walked near the offense. Holding my breath, I exhaled slowly when he continued past, looking for something, someone.

“Where is David?” he asked, searching the room. No one spoke. “I’m asking all of you where is little David Oliver?” he repeated, expecting an answer. “I was told he was here.”

“I sent him to get supplies in the cooler,” I spoke, keeping my eyes locked on the floor. I knew better than to raise my eyes to him, especially now that I was nineteen, an adult man in our community, and a threat to his alpha position. “Can I get you anything, Father Franklin?” I asked.

He ignored my question and headed down the hallway toward the giant cooler at the end of it. Fear gripped my heart while panic raced through my veins. I reached for a large metal mixing bowl and threw it across the room. The noise reverberated throughout the kitchen and down the hallway, catching his attention.

“Who did that?” he demanded, turning on his heels and heading back to the center of the kitchen. We all remained silent. “It appears none of you are speaking this afternoon, so I’ll make myself clear. Who dropped that mixing bowl?”

Sister Mary Ellen hurried toward the bowl, acting flustered and out of breath as she reached for it. “I tripped, Father,” she lied, wiping her brow to support her confused state. “I’ve been clumsy all day, and I apologize.”

David appeared out of nowhere behind Franklin and I caught his eye, shaking my head ever so slowly, and using my eyes to motion for him to return to the cooler, silently pleading with him to move away from where he stood.

“Be sure to be more careful,” Franklin said, seeming unsure of what he’d been doing. He furrowed his brow and looked about, landing on me. “Oh yes, Luke. Where is your brother?” he asked.

“He was unwell, sir. I sent him to the cooler to help with what I fear is a fever.” I willed my little brother to hide somewhere as I did one of the worst things a member could do to our leader; I lied. “Me and mother have been unwell this week, sir. I fear David has come down with the sickness as well.”

Everyone in our community at Half Moon Ranch knew Franklin was a hypochondriac and was horrified by illness and germs. My only goal was to keep David as far away from Franklin as I could.

“Good decision, Luke,” he commended. “Tell your mother I asked about her and your brother. Will you do that, boy?”

“Yes, of course, sir,” I replied, stunned by his kindness.

“Back to work, everyone,” Franklin urged. “And don’t forget the all-family special meeting tonight in the main dining hall. Everyone’s attendance is required.” He looked back at me. “Except your family, Luke.” So much for kindness.

None of us moved until Franklin stepped back into the dining area of the bakery. I ran to the cooler and instructed David to remain inside until I returned once I was sure Franklin had left the parking lot in his black Mercedes Benz.

“Go home,” I said, holding David by his wrists outside the kitchen’s walk-in cooler. “If you see Franklin’s car in the compound, I want you to sneak around to the back of the dorms. Tell Mother I sent you home because you don’t feel well.”

“I feel fine,” David remarked, trying to release his wrists from my control. I gripped tighter. “Ouch, Luke. That hurts,” he whined.

“Then do exactly as I just said. I mean it too,” I added. “No stopping anywhere. No messing around at the river, either. Straight home.”

“You’re always in my business, Luke. I don’t like it,” he complained.

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