CHAPTER TWENTY Luke

Two Weeks Ago

"Are you gonna report me?" Josiah asked. "Nobody's gonna believe me, Luke. You know that."

Josiah grimaced when I lifted him and carefully set him on a bale of hay.

"How long?" I asked, anger building inside me, not waiting for an answer. "When was the first time?" Josiah's head was tilted down, so I lifted his chin and leaned within inches of his face. "When did this start, Josiah?"

"Three weeks ago," he whispered, pressing his hand against his left side. "Ouch," he moaned, shifting uncomfortably.

I grabbed his hands. "Stand back up," I instructed. "I want to examine your body.

Josiah flinched and pulled away, disengaging my hands. "Why?"

Once again, I reached for his hands. I held them gently and made sure he was looking at me. "I won't hurt you, brother. Please stand up."

I assisted him back to his feet and reached for the top button of his shirt. Once again, he recoiled in fear, grabbing at my hands. "Please don't," he whispered, clinging to my shoulder.

I pulled him close and held him. He quietly wept and began to relax in my arms. The disgust building in my throat tasted awful as I fought off my own memories of this loft. I'd been here far too many times. How many times had Josiah suffered?

"I'm gonna take your shirt off, Josiah. Okay?" His eyes pleaded no, and he slowly shook his head as he resisted. "You need to trust me. Now let go of me."

After another minute of comforting him, he moved his hands to his sides, and I began to unbutton his shirt. Halfway down, he grabbed my hand and gazed into my eyes. "Promise you won't tell?"

"I promise," I said.

He knew a promise made by a brother was gold. We kept our promises on Half Moon Ranch. Promise-keeping was a must. I'd keep his secret. Even after I confirmed what I assumed was under his shirt. God forgive what I'd find when I made him get undressed completely.

Once the lowest button was undone, I carefully separated the opening of the shirt, taking in a sudden breath. "Franklin did this to you?" He nodded, his eyes closed tightly. I touched his rib cage, pressing gently to see if I could feel a fracture. "Open your eyes, Josiah."

I needed him to tell me exactly what had happened. "I shouldn't have fought back," he said softly, biting the inside of his cheek. "Am I going to hell, Luke?"

My heart broke at his question. He, like so many of us, feared for our afterlife and our souls. Franklin warned us endlessly about the outside world and the awful things that took place there. Some of us knew what those dreadful things were because they happened to us withinhis world, not the one outside our gate.

My eyes motioned to his stomach and sides. "How'd this get here?"

"He kicked and punched me when I wouldn't lie still," he replied. "Then he tied ropes to me. He's never done that before, Luke."

"How many times, Josiah? How many times,exactly, did he strike you?"

He shrugged his shoulders and teared up again. "I dunno," he whispered. "A lot, I guess. After the pain got so bad, I think I passed out this time." He swallowed hard and avoided my stare. "Franklin was gone when I woke up and found…" Josiah stopped speaking, glancing down at his bloody jeans. "I'm not sure what else he did to me."

Fury surged through me, and my blood felt like lava as I raged internally. I'd been right; there were other young men on the ranch that Franklin was assaulting. The man was a predator, and we were his prey.

"Can you make it to the pump house?" I asked, lifting his face to me again.

Josiah tremored, his eyes doubling in size. "Why?"

"Because you can't go back to the dorms like this," I explained. "I'll help you clean up and we can rinse out your clothing."

"Then what, Luke? How do I explain my wet jeans to my folks?"

He was right. How could he explain that? "Tell ‘em I dunked you in the livestock water tank as a joke. We were roughhousing. Yeah, tell ‘em that," I insisted.

"Maybe I'll just tell them the truth," he stated. "I can't take no more of him hurting me, Luke."

I grabbed his shoulders immediately. "You can't do that," I gasped. "Franklin will deny he did it. He'll accuse you of some horrible sin and then punish your folks for the bad upbringing of their son. Your entire family will suffer."

"There are other boys," he whispered. "I thought they were getting punished in here, gettin' whoopins and stuff. Tom Polk, Jacob Heely. I know those two for sure. If we all tell on him, someone has to believe us, right?"

I wished what he said was true, but I doubted that would be the case. Maybe, just maybe, if all of us who Franklin assaulted went to the outside world and told our stories, they might believe us.

There was one problem with that idea. We never involved the outside world in our world. The modern, doomed world wanted to take us down. Franklin had warned us they wanted to destroy our faith. He said they'd imprison our loved ones, take our babies from us, or worse. He was always right. And he often reminded us that God chose him to do God's work here on earth.

How do you defeat a man doing God's work?