Desert Wives (9781615952267) (23 page)

Chapter 18

I ducked my head and ran into the house before Rebecca could recognize me and give me away. Fortunately, Ruby was nowhere to be seen, and Saul, after looking up briefly from the tape recorder, returned to it.

Confident that the shadows on the porch would make peering into the window difficult, I pulled back the window sheers and looked out. It was Rebecca, all right, and the man with her was Abel Corbett himself. She didn't appear frightened, either. When I'd first seen her alight from the truck, I'd taken it for granted that her father had kidnapped her once again, but as I watched her more closely, I began to doubt that scenario. Rebecca looked much too relaxed.

Happy to be with her father? Happy to be back on the compound with her friends? I couldn't help but notice the joy of the compound's children as they braved the increasingly heavy downpour and swarmed around their playmate as Rebecca and Abel hurried toward Jacob Waldman's house. Whatever the answer, I had to contact her somehow before she gave my presence in the compound away. If she hadn't already done so.

I turned from the window and cleared my throat. “Husband, could I have a word with you?”

He looked up. “Can't I just listen to this?”

“I need to talk to you about something, um, private.”

Grumbling, he started down the hall to the bedroom. I followed, eager to avoid Ruby. The second Saul closed the bedroom door behind us, I told him what he needed to do.

“So you want me to go see Rebecca and warn her not to let the cat out of the bag? Considering the fact that I'm about as popular in this compound as you are, how do you figure I'm going to do that? Just walk over to Brother Jacob's and tell him I need to be alone with his granddaughter for a few minutes? Fat chance, Lena.”

He was right. If Jacob Waldman had his wits about him today, he probably wouldn't even open the door to Saul, let alone allow a meeting with Rebecca. This meant I'd have to find a way to catch Rebecca alone myself, and as soon as possible.

For once, the Fates were on my side. An hour later the rain stopped. Children drifted slowly out of doors again and headed with Rebecca toward the playground. After making sure that no adults lurked about to hear any surprised exclamation she might utter, I left the house, forcing myself to look as if I were merely taking another of my canyon strolls. I ambled several yards behind the children until they reached a large open space between the houses, then quickened my pace until I caught up with Rebecca.

“Rebecca, please don't react or say anything,” I said quietly, coming alongside her. “I don't want anyone to realize we know each other.”

For a moment, I thought I'd blown it, because Rebecca stopped dead in her tracks, her face lit with joy. But then my words sank in and she smiled at her friends and started walking toward the playground again. Intent upon their own fun, they hadn't noticed the exchange.

“I'm going to continue on to the mesquite grove at the edge of the canyon. Play with your friends for a while, then come find me.”

Her lips hardly moved as she whispered, “Don't go in the canyon, though, okay? It floods pretty bad when it rains.”

Her concern renewed my confidence in her. “Don't worry. I know all about it.”

About twenty minutes later, Rebecca joined me under a dripping mesquite, her face flushed and happy. She gave me a big hug. “Oh, Lena! It's so great to see you again! I missed you!”

“I've missed you too, but I can't say I'm happy to see you here. Don't you realize the dangerous position you've put me in? Your mother in?”

Her smile faded. “Yes, I know the position I've put my mother
and
Jimmy's cousins in. That's why I'm here. I heard the CPS people talking to them, saying they had to give me up. But Lena, they refused to! They said CPS could haul them all off to jail before they gave me back to my dad.”

“Rebecca, CPS couldn't…”

She didn't let me finish. “My mom's already in jail and I didn't want the same thing to happen to them. Or you, either. I can't keep letting people get in trouble over me.”

I shook my head. “The last thing your mother wants is for you to move back to Purity.”

“But that's the whole point, don't you see? Everyone believes my mother killed Prophet Solomon to keep me out of Purity, but I figured that if I made everyone think I'm not afraid of this place at all, they'd realize Mom had no reason to kill him.”

I digested this. “You really think that'll fly in court?”

She nodded. “It was the least I could do for her. So I called Dad at his hotel and told him to meet me at the old Circle K on the reservation, then I snuck away.”

“Oh, Rebecca. Weren't you worried your dad might try to marry you off again?”

Rebecca assumed that look of teenage intellectual superiority that maddens parents as well as private investigators. “You just don't understand, Lena. All I had to do was talk to Dad and let him know my feelings. I didn't have time to do that before, you know. I thought the marriage stuff was all a joke, some silly thing these old people just talked about but didn't really do. By the time I realized Dad really did plan to make me marry that old man, you showed up. Anyway, I made Dad promise he'd drop the marriage routine.”

I groaned inwardly at the folly of youth. What point would there be in telling her I didn't share her trust in Abel Corbett's ability to listen to reason? Any man so morally corrupted that he'd trade his thirteen-year-old daughter to an elderly man for a couple of sixteen-year-olds had moved far beyond wisdom
or
trust. So I said nothing. But I couldn't stop thinking of those two young girls Abel Corbett had been promised in exchange for Rebecca. Solomon might be dead, but the girls were still alive and available for trade. Abel wanted them. How far would he go to get them?

Then again, Purity had a new prophet. Davis had clamped down on forced marriages to little girls. Maybe…

I pushed that hope aside. “Listen to me, Rebecca. I know you think you're doing the right thing for your mother and Jimmy's cousins, and maybe it'll even work out the way you want it to, but you need to be very, very careful.”

“Believe me, I'll stay away from the Circle of Elders. I don't want them to get any weird ideas. And I'll make sure nobody figures out we know each other.”

She still didn't get it. “Rebecca, it's dangerous here! Somebody on this compound murdered Prophet Solomon. If your mother didn't do it, then who did?”

A little of that naive confidence faded from her face. “I guess…I guess…A passing tramp, maybe?”

Good lord, what had she been reading? Old Nancy Drew mysteries? I tried to keep my voice steady but I wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. “There are no ‘passing tramps' out here, Rebecca. We're miles from civilization.”

“Maybe the whole thing was one of those hunting accidents.”

I hated to say what I was about to say, but it was necessary. Teenagers, untried by life's tragedies, overestimated their powers of deduction, so I pointed out the obvious. “It would be pretty hard to have a hunting accident where Prophet Solomon was standing. He was in a clear spot, not surrounded by brush. And remember, Rebecca, he was shot by his own gun. What kind of hunting accident could that be?”

She bit her lip. “He dropped his gun, maybe, and it went off?”

“And maybe space aliens will beam Purity up to Alpha Centauri during Prayer Time tonight, but I don't think so.” I reached out my hand and stroked her hair. “I don't want you to be frightened, but I want you to be careful. Don't take any walks alone, promise?”

“I promise.”

I didn't believe her for a minute.

The next morning I woke up depressed, but I couldn't remember my dreams, which I counted as a blessing. I could say this for a bad childhood; it certainly put the sorrows of the present into perspective.

After grabbing a quick breakfast of Special K, I wandered over to Davis Royal's house. The front door was open and I almost entered, but I heard several male voices, so I paused on the porch to listen. “Our lost bird has flown home!” Jacob Waldman said.

“I'm very happy for you, Brother Jacob,” Davis said. “It is always…”

“Yes, Purity is Rebecca's true home.” Abel Corbett's voice, sounding determined. “But I'm here, Brother Davis, to work out the arrangements that fell through when my daughter ran off.”

“What arrangements?” Davis sounded cool.

“You know what arrangements. In return for offering Rebecca's hand in marriage, I was to receive two of Earl Graff's daughters. Just because Prophet Solomon died before the marriage actually took place isn't my fault. I've brought Rebecca back and she's still available, so the Circle of Elders should fulfill their contract by giving me my two brides.”

It was all I could do to keep from entering the house and slapping him, but I managed to stay put.

Davis snorted. “Brother Abel, you've been gone for a while so you don't know about some of the changes I've initiated. We are not going to have any more forced marriages, especially not of children.”

Abel's voice became stiff. “My mother was only twelve when she married.”

“An earlier time. I think the counter-offer the Circle made you is eminently fair, and I advise you to act upon it.”

What counter-offer? I strained to listen.

“I'm a young man in my prime, Brother Davis, and I don't see why I should accept a couple of hand-me-downs.”

“Hand-me-downs?” There was no disguising the anger in Davis's voice. “I don't think I care to hear two perfectly respectable women described in that manner. You were raised in Purity, and you know that we take care of our widows by finding them new husbands. Frankly, I see absolutely nothing wrong with your marrying Sister Jean and Sister Ermaline. Granted, Sister Ermaline is no longer of child-bearing age, but Sister Jean is still in her prime. Now that my father is dead, they're both destitute and need a husband's protection.”

Abel's voice trembled with rage. “All those years I lived with Rebecca's mother I remained monogamous, so now I have to make up for lost time. I need younger wives or I won't be able to get enough children. I don't want to be stuck in Mid-Heaven, little more than a servant to the rest of you!”

Shades of Noah Heaton.

Davis didn't budge. “My mind's made up, Brother Abel. Before I consider your request for a younger woman, you must marry the two women I've chosen. Prove your worthiness for younger brides by having children with Sister Jean, and then we'll revisit this conversation. Now, good day to you!”

Jacob Waldman's voice again. “You see, Abel? That's what you get for defying God's Law! Instead of being fruitful and multiplying the earth, you gave yourself over to the selfishness of monogamy. Now you're reaping the harsh justice you deserve.”

Selfishness of monogamy? What a topsy-turvy world these men lived in. If it weren't so tragic for the young girls involved, it would be funny. I had learned one new thing from the conversation, though. Rebecca's father sounded more afraid of eternal life in servitude than he was driven by lust.

The scraping of chairs signaled the meeting had ended. Not wanting to get caught eavesdropping, I tiptoed off the porch and away from the building. Since I was already near Ermaline's house, I decided to stop in and see how Cynthia was doing. I knocked, but the din of so many toddlers drowned me out, so I let myself in and wove my way through the herd. Some of the children were new to me, but like the rest, they sported various shades of blond hair, from towhead to cotton-white. Three of the palest had pink eyes. Albinos.

As I watched them, a honey-blond girl of around eight pushed a tiny chair into the path of an albino child, a cherubic looking kindergarten-age girl. Before I could call out a warning, the cherub ran full-tilt right into it and set up an ear-shattering wail.

I hurried over and picked her up. “There, there. It's just a bump.”

Her pink eyes stared straight ahead, unfocused. I realized she was blind.

“Leave that child alone! She should be getting ready for school.” I turned to see Ermaline standing in the doorway, hands on her hips. Flour dusted the front of her calico apron.

“She ran into a chair. I don't think she saw it.”

Ermaline pursed her lips into a thin, hard line. “Of course she didn't. She can't see anything. Which one of the children moved the chair?”

When I didn't answer, Ermaline tightened her lips even further. She made no move to comfort the crying girl. “The children have been instructed to be very careful where they put things. Someone hasn't followed orders.”

The honey-blond miscreant threw a desperate look at me.

I smiled at her and held the crying toddler closer. “I didn't see who it was, Sister Ermaline. It could have been anyone. So much is going on.”

Another woman rushed into the room, apparently alerted by the child's squalls. Her hair was as white as the little girl's, her eyes as pink. But the woman could see.

“Give Judy to me,” she said, stretching her arms out.

After giving her a quick kiss on the forehead, I handed the crying girl to her mother, who promptly left the room, the darker-haired child trailing at her heels.

All through this exchange, Ermaline frowned at me. She knew I lied, but could do nothing about it.

I continued to smile. “I just dropped by to see how Sister Cynthia is doing,” I said, attempting to keep my voice non-judgmental. Apparently I failed, because Ermaline's scowl deepened.

“Cynthia's fine,” she snapped.

“I'd still like to see her.” Smile, smile.

Children flowed around our little Mexican standoff, laughing, whooping, singing snatches of songs, until Ermaline finally unbent.

“All right.”