EXTENDED EPILOGUE
Elijah
Seven years later
I stab the pitchfork in the ground. “Can I help you?” I say.
“Sir, we’re here on behalf of the Colorado school system. We hear you have some children here that aren’t in school.”
I say nothing. Who do these guys think they are just coming onto my property like this unannounced?
“Is that true, sir?”
“What’s true is you all are trespassing.”
I feel Trinity’s arm on my shoulder and I’m reminded to stay calm. She’s done a lot to mellow me a bit these last seven years, but I still have that fire inside. Living out here does that to you, especially when you have a family to protect.
“Sir, all we’re asking is to see if the children are being educated. It’s for their own good.”
“Well, what’s for your own good is—”
I feel Trinity’s grasp on my shoulder tighten.
“It’s okay, honey,” she says. “Would you gentleman like some lemonade?”
“Yes, ma’am. That would be great. It was harder to get here than we thought.”
“And a lot longer too,” the other man says.
That’s by design. I don’t want nosey people up here in my business.
I try and stay calm, but this is my family we’re talking about.
Trinity takes the men inside and I follow. I can see they’re nervous. They should be. I’m much bigger and stronger than ten of these office types.
The men ask the kids a few questions. They answer quickly and correctly. I think back and remember those types of questions. They’re asking middle school or even high school level questions to our children.
The men see the books in the house and then turn and look at one another. They nod and quickly finish their drinks.
We all step outside.
“Technically, these kids are supposed to be in school. Under the law if you’re practicing a certain kind of religion then you’re protected—”
“My family is protected by my will, my grit, and these two hands,” I say. The men look down at my giant hands and realize this is a battle they’re not about to win…especially not with words. They may take me for a mountain hick, but I went through the same school system they did and passed with flying colors.
“But as we can tell by our questions your children are actually proficient well beyond their years. Congratulations on raising such bright kids. We won’t trouble you again,” the one man with the badge on his shirt says.
“Thanks for coming,” my wife says. She rushes to give them a jar of our homemade honey.
“Thank you, ma’am!” the one man says.
“You can take a scoop or two as you walk back. It will give you energy for the trek.”
“We’ll do that. Thanks again.”
The men walk away and talk quickly as they smile and look at the jar of honey. The one man hands it to the other who removes the lid and smells it. He turns his head towards the other man and I can just make out that his eyes are closed. He’s on cloud nine, as he should be. Trinity cooks better than any woman in the world. She got the hang of it real quick and now there’s not a better meal prepared on this planet.
“Why were those two men here, pa?”
I look down and see Woods by my side. We named him after the woodshed which he was conceived in.
“They just wanted to make sure your ma and I were giving you a proper education.”
“Are they going to come back?” Johnny asks. He was our second, conceived out by the apple tree. Johnny, like Johnny Appleseed, sounded appropriate for a name.
“They know better than to come back.”
I step inside and see Trinity tending to our newborn, Sequoia. She’s got a sister just a year and a half older named Rain.
We’re a family of seven now. I’m still hoping we can get to ten. I know I’ve got what it takes. Looking at that woman still turns me on like nothing else in this world.
Even after seven years I can’t keep my hands off her. And thankfully we expanded the cabin by a magnitude of three. We have our own room now, and a lot more privacy. We definitely take advantage of that most every night, in addition to the times we just enjoy each other in the forest, or in the stream in the summer, or by the fire, or anywhere else nature intended.
Tonight after the kids go to sleep I’m going to do everything I can to shoot for number eight. Our sixth child and a family of eight. But I know my thirst for her and a bigger family will never be quenched.
Eight definitely isn’t enough. With her nothing is. I’ll never get enough of her, and I’ll never get enough of all these little ones calling me pa and her ma. That’s truly what life’s all about.
And I live the luckiest life of any man. And it’s all because of her.