Raphael wanted to ask the hard questions but didn’t want to pry too soon, “Karli said the police came on Fridays. Did you spend a great deal of time talking with Hymn?”
“Hymn kept me at arm’s length as well. I was there to teach and look after Karli and Dusty Rose. The other younger girl’s mothers lived on the commune, but they were the only two without moms, so they became my chicks to tend in my nest,” Willow said softly. “I know that’s not what you’re asking, but...”
“No, it’s fine,” he said. “That’s more than enough for now.”
“Will you tell me about you? I mean, when we get to the house, will your wife be upset that you brought home a whole family and two kids calling you Daddy?” she asked, cutting her eye at him.
“Hey, girls,” he said, looking into his rear-view mirror, “anyone ready for a bathroom break?”
“Me! Me!” Karli said as well as Dusty Rose.
Willow noticed he had evaded the question. The sound of the turn signal blinking was the loudest silent non-response she had ever heard. They were still four hours outside of Hilton Head and she was afraid she’d put her foot in her mouth. She needed to find a way to smooth it over.
“Mr. Hoyt, I have a very important question,” she said, looking at him square in the eyes.
“Yeah, what?” he said, sounding gruff and drawing the girl’s attention.
“Daniel Craig, Pierce Brosnan, or Sean Connery?”
“What?”
“Which is your favorite Bond?”
“Aren’t you clever, trying to change the subject to get back in my good graces...naw, it won’t work, Ms. Willow Smarty Pants,” he said, staring her back in the eyes. “To answer your question, I’m very seldom home. The days that I am, I’m on my boat fishing. You and the girls will have the run of the house until we get everything situated.”
He answered the question indirectly. She was out of his good graces, that he made perfectly clear. Willow was also hungry, and the girls had eaten all the fruit. Her head hung a bit low, making her grow visibly sullen.
“Hey, let’s find something quick to eat, get you and Dusty a pair of pants, and get back on the road. I want to be home by dinner,” he said to her. “Girls, stay very close to your Mom while we’re inside, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy,” they both said, excited to go into the roadside shop with bright lights.
Raphael was certain of three things—he was not planning to get an actual wife out of this deal, he was not spending another 165 bucks on bullshit, and he was never going to have toilet paper in the house with three women. The one thing he wasn’t certain about was Willow and her two gypsy flower power children. Karli said he was going to like her Mommy, and damnit he did. She had a cool vibe about her, a quick wit and cutting sense of humor. Until now he never considered his nomadic lifestyle to be lonely. He had women on his routes that he could visit if he were so inclined or in need of female company. All she wanted was a good conversation. He could do that, without getting sucked in too deep.
“Brosnan,” he mumbled. “He was cool, handsome, and competent.”
“Yeah, but he runs like a girl,” Willow said, looking at him over her shoulder.
“And you need on some britches, Smarty Pants,” he said calmly as Karli slipped her fingers into his left hand. He held out his right hand for Dusty Rose and she took hold of it. Raphael pulled Dusty Rose in close, planting a wet, raspberry of a kiss on her forehead, just to make sure he kept his word and they walked into the roadside wallet sucking pit stop, to buy more bullshit items he swore two seconds ago he swore wasn’t going to do.
PRODERICK PUTNAM HYMN sat in the woods, high on the hill overlooking the Flowing Creek Naturalist Compound. Today was initiation day of a new member, a pretty brunette who would become his seventh wife. The alone time with her would give him ample opportunity to implant his seed to create more offspring. He’d waited several months to ensure she would be ripe when the time came for inception, but the lady was a dud in the sack. Why did it always have to be the pretty ones who simply lay there and made moaning noises like a bad porn movie? Already, he was tired of the woman.
On the front porch of his hideaway cabin, he could see the entirety of the compound. The bird’s eye view allowed him to also observe the men who worked for him and how they comported themselves around his wives. A few of the men had wives of their own, and today was laundry day. Water from the dam would be released into the creek and the women and young girls would frolic in the water. In the thin white dresses, he often marveled at the different shapes and sizes the human body developed into, even when the women were all on the same diet. He especially liked their breasts. The bounced freely without the modern entrapments of bored house husbands who demanded their women harness the golden gifts which not only aroused men, but fed their young as well.
In the distance, he saw the white gauzy garments descending the hill.
“Ah, wash day,” he lamented, as a small puff of dust appeared on a back trail only he and two others knew and used.
Grabbing his binoculars, Proderick zoomed in to where the dirt was kicked up, but the canopy of the trees hindered his view of a vehicle. He scanned the foreground and background surrounding the women, looking for evidence of chicanery. His second in command, Kindred Seoul, as of late, had become a worrisome matter.
“What in the world?” he asked, looking through the binoculars and seeing a dark figure in the woods. The figure came to the edge of the creek, looking directly at Willow. “God Damnit!”
He cursed up a blue storm, ready to get his radio to call to the guards, when the man pointed at a large oak. A small child–no Karli in pants, came from behind the tree.
“How and why is she in male clothing?” Proderick asked, watching the little girl wave to Willow.
Proderick got to his feet, running inside to grab the radio when he heard a loud sound. Sirens, small arms fire, and women’s screams pierced his ears when the lights from government vehicles entered his compound.
“They have no damned right!” he yelled, nearly salivating at the mouth. “They have no right on my goddamn land!”
His eyes were back on the binoculars, peering down into the trees and looking for Willow. She was no longer there. Dusty Rose, who was always at her side, also no longer there. He searched the wood line for the white gauzy fabric which also was no longer there.
“No!!! No! No!” he yelled, angrier than he’d ever been in his life. Willow had finally managed to get away. Just when he knew she was reaching her breaking limit of being in isolation, she was next on his list to become his bride. Six years without the touch of a man, and the woman would have fallen into his arms, giving him anything he wanted. More children were always high on his list of needs, coupled with a warm home and tables covered with edible food, and maybe, a night in his cabin with a deer steak dinner. Now, she was gone. The idea of another man laying his hands on that beautiful dark, supple skin made him see red.
“I’ll get you back. You and my children, and this time, I won’t be so patient with you, Willow Rayne,” he mumbled, watching the vehicles arrive on to his property. Women he knew wanted to leave met the federal officers and government officials with open arms, ready to get away from the Flowing Creek Naturalist Compound.