Favorite Wife (43 page)

Sighing again, Verlan stood up. “I wish you'd quit that language, and I wish you'd listen to me. Ester was really unhappy last night—”

“Ester?” I shrieked, my blood running cold. “You spent my night with Ester? Oh, that's just lovely. Of all the raw, low-down nerve . . . How could you even bear to touch that—that bitchy little snob!”

“Sweetheart, she's not like that, really. She can be such a gentle, queenly woman . . .”

“Well, I don't want to hear it. I'll never forgive you for this, Verlan. Never! I made such a nice dinner, and I waited for you for hours.”

Verlan regarded me for a long moment, then walked to the window. His shoulders were bowed as he pulled the curtain back and stared across the vacant field toward Lucy's house. As I yanked the covers over the bed, I couldn't help but notice that he looked really haggard. For a fleeting moment I felt sorry for him, and I regretted my ugly show of temper. My loneliness and jealousy had caused me to forget that he had his own side to this story.

I didn't doubt that it was real hell for a man to be emotionally torn between so many wives. Verlan wanted to be there for each of us. He loved and needed us, and wanted to make all of us happy. Well, this whole mess was his own fault. He should have thought of that before he married us. He always wanted to. Wasn't it something how his intention and his follow-through somehow weren't connected?

“Okay.” His voice almost startled me. He turned and gave me a brief smile. “You can go. Go ahead and pack for you and James. Plan on two weeks. I'll have Reenie take care of Melanie.”

I gulped, an abrupt, unexpected guilt causing my hands to shake. He had given in so easily! I'd expected such a battle . . . “Thank you, Verlan.” I plumped the pillows, somehow keeping my voice even and sophisticated.

He walked to the doorway, hesitated, and looked back at me. I met his gaze, hoping that he would see only confidence and self-esteem in my eyes. I didn't want him to know that I was suddenly feeling darting little arrows of shame. Ducking through the doorway, he dropped the curtain back into place and quietly left the house.

I sank down on the bed, my knees weak. I shakily exhaled. All right, you should be happy, I thought. You've pulled it off. You've bullied him into taking you to Colonia LeBaron. You are special to him; Lillie was right. He wouldn't have given in to anyone else. So he's leaving someone else behind. That's his problem. That's her problem.

I bit my lip and rubbed my forehead, my temples beginning to throb. I hadn't even had the guts to ask Verlan who it was. One of his other wives was going to be terribly disappointed and angry with me. I gulped in growing misery. I was so selfish.

From the corner of my bedroom, a faint smell of urine wafted toward me. James had awakened and was standing in his crib. He stared at me from between the bars, his sleeper sagging between his legs. After a moment I stood up, went to the kitchen, and put a bucket of water on to heat to for his bath. I told myself that Verlan's other wife didn't matter, I was going with him! That was the important thing. Verlan and I were again going to become as one flesh, just as the Bible said we should. We had to do this! We had to build a relationship once again—I couldn't bear this way of life any longer if we didn't.

I resolutely planned for the trip and packed Melanie's clothes to take to Irene's. Surely Irene would agree to take care of her, she loved Melly, and besides, she had Donna and Kaylen and the others to help. Lillie, of course, would keep Ivan.

I ran down the little path that was forming between Lillie's house and mine and explained to her about my intended trip. “Will you mind keeping Ivan?”

“Of course not. Go, and have a good time. Verlan should take someone, and it's your turn.”

Her words salved my guilt as I waited for Verlan to arrive. He came for Melanie shortly after lunch. “Come on, baby,” he called for her as he picked up her bag. Turning to me, he said, “I'll be right back for you.”

I frowned. “Why don't I just come with you now? I'd like to tell Irene good-bye, and thank her.”

“We don't have time for that; we're getting away late as it is. I'll tell her goodbye for you. Now Melly, give your mom a kiss.”

She hugged me, looking at me with a trace of tears in her eyes. “You won't be very long, will you, Mama?”

“A few days, but you'll be fine with Aunt Reenie and Kaylen. Be a good girl, and I'll bring you back a prize.” I kissed her cheek, a growing lump in my throat.

Twenty minutes later, Verlan, James, and I bumped along the road and climbed up the incline above Los Molinos. I looked back at Irene's yellow house in the distance, wondering if Melanie was crying. This was the first time I had left her for so long, and I felt like a traitor. She was so little and so trusting, and I was dumping her on Irene to satisfy my own selfish needs. I blinked rapidly to block the tears and erase the growing fear that I was a horrible mother and a self-centered, demanding wife. As we sped along the highway, the knowledge that one of Verlan's wives was being left behind because of me kept crowding to the forefront. My feelings of justification in what I had done were dissolving like drops of water on a hot stove.

Verlan seemed distant and silent for the first half hour, hardly noticing that I was with him. Suddenly he brightened, smiled at me, and said, “What is this? Are you going to stay clear over there the whole trip? Move that big hunk of a boy over, and come sit next to me.”

I lifted James from between us and scooted him next to the door. “He really is getting big, isn't he,” I forced a grin, “I'll bet he's as tall as you when he grows up.”

Verlan glanced at him. “Oh, at least. Just look at those feet. He'll be as tall as Ervil.”

“Verlan,” I took a deep breath, “There is something I've been needing to tell you about Ervil. Something happened the other day. Did Joel tell you about the fight between Ervil and the Zarates and Brother Castro?”

Verlan's eyes darkened. “He told me some of it, yes. Go ahead, tell me what you heard.”

As I related to him the incident at Victoria's trailer, I watched his face. His expression hardly changed throughout my account; only a grinding of his jaw showing his emotion. “Gamaliel Rios was the man who was with Ervil that night in Colonia LeBaron,” I said soberly, “the night I heard Ervil say he'd have you killed. Oh, Verlan, Ervil's not rational! He knows he can't bully those men out of their land, and they won't be threatened into joining his group. And yet, something is building. I can feel it. Ervil talked of blood atonement. What does that mean?”

“It's an old Brigham Young doctrine, one, I'm glad to say, that quickly bit the dust. It means that if a person sins against the Holy Ghost, or in other words, against personal knowledge of what's right, then that person is executed for the salvation of his own soul. Ervil's professing to be in charge of seeing that the doctrine is put into practice once again. Claims God told him to clean house.” He snorted. “It's pure hogwash. He'll never do it.”

I frowned. “So what's going to happen? I can't picture his threatening these things and not carrying through with some action! He would look stupid. I don't know,” I shook my head worriedly, “I think you're kidding yourself if you think he is just going to let it all go away.”

Verlan yawned. “You know what? I don't want to talk about Ervil anymore. I'm sick of the subject. Let's just enjoy our trip together, hum? Because once we get to San Diego, we're going to be picking up a couple of brethren to ride on to Colonia LeBaron with us. I was originally planning to stay in San Diego for a couple of days, but since you're going with me we may just as well leave immediately for the colony. That way you'll have a chance to spend some time with your folks.”

He patted my knee as I snuggled against him. This was the Verlan I had been missing so much . . . This was why I'd thrown the fit this morning, so that I could once again have my husband to myself. He was so different when we were around the rest of the family—so harried and stressed out. But now that we were alone, he was affectionate and considerate. I pressed a kiss against his shoulder and said a silent prayer of thanksgiving. For the next few days, Verlan would be mine. The choking, dried-out garden of our love would be watered once more, given a long, deep drink that would have to last for weeks, or possibly months, until my turn came again. I had to make the most of it.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY-
T
HREE

I
awoke as we rattled over a cattle guard. “Where are we?” I yawned loudly, rubbed my eyes, and peered out the bug-spattered windshield.

“We're here, honey. We're at the colony,” Verlan yawned in response and patted my knee.

Colonia LeBaron's main walnut tree–lined road, dark and silent under the pale ghost of a late moon, was a welcome sight, and I immediately felt the familiar excitement of being home again. Mom and Dad, Fara and Mona, oh and Jay—I couldn't wait to see them! My hands drifted up to my tangled hair in an effort to make myself presentable, then I fished in my purse for a brush.

“Hey, what's going on here?” Verlan muttered, suddenly braking the car when the shadowy figure of a man waving a flashlight stepped out of the trees to the driver's side window. After Verlan rolled the window down we both recognized Beverly's father, Delfino Paisano, although his head and shoulders were covered by a serape. More figures emerged from the shrubbery hurrying toward us. A man on horseback galloped close, abruptly reining the horse to a halt.

“Delfino! Nephi! How you guys doin'? What's going on here?” Verlan's hearty voice woke James, who was lying on the seat next to me. Immediately he started to wail, drowning out Nephi's shouted response. I shushed James, but Verlan had already opened the door and joined the men. They'd gathered in a huddle, the car lights outlining the group.

“What in the heck?” I muttered, peering at my watch. Almost midnight and five men, one of whom appeared to be Verlan's brother Floren, were out in the chilly night air, conversing with Verlan. Something was wrong.

“Abel, wake up.” I reached into the backseat and nudged Verlan's snoring nephew who had shared his sedan with us for the trip from San Diego. “Go see what's going on out there, will you?”

Abel sat up with a start, groggy from having driven most of the long trip. “What? What's happening?” he mumbled, leaning over my shoulder as he squinted out the windshield. A quick glance was all he needed. “What the heck . . .?” He hurriedly opened his door and joined the others.

Although Verlan's window was open, I couldn't hear the men's voices over the engine. I turned it off and doused the headlights. Suddenly I realized that beyond the group of men were other figures farther down the road, some of them carrying lanterns. This was too strange! I wrapped a blanket around the baby and hurried to the group of people surrounding Verlan.

Several of the guys were talking at once as I approached, with Floren's voice being the most dominant. “Absolutely not,” he was insisting to Verlan. “You aren't going anywhere without a bodyguard. Nowhere, you hear me? Abel can take her to her Mom's. Sigfried and Ossmen are waiting for you at Magdalena's; let's get over there!”

“Verlan, what's going on?”

As I grabbed Verlan's arm, Floren shoved me away. “Don't! Stay away from him, Susan,” he commanded. “Get back in the car and Abel will take you to your Mom's. Hurry up, now, get out of here. Verlan's busy, so you're on your own.”

My eyes practically popped out in angry surprise. “What's happened?” I demanded. “Somebody tell me what's going on!”

“Joel's been killed!” Verlan said hoarsely. His face was hidden in the shadows, but his voice held the same shock and disbelief that the words hit me with.

“What?” I gasped. My eyes roved frantically over the men huddled around us. They settled on Delfino, whose face was somewhat visible because of the flashlight in his hand. “Joel?” my stiff lips whispered, scanning Delfino's black eyes for verification. As he nodded, my arms holding James weakened, and my blanket-clad little boy slipped to the ground.

Abel grabbed and steadied me, and one of the Mexican men scooped up a wailing James. Dizziness and nausea swept over me, the men surrounding me fading in and out of my vision.

“Put your head down,” Abel's voice came to me from far away. Then Verlan's arms were around me, his rough whiskers against my cheek. “It was Dan,” he croaked. “Oh, my God! It was Dan Jordan. Dan shot him—in Ensenada—Oh, my God. Oh, my God, no! Joel, Joel!” He rocked me back and forth, his body shaking.

“It can't be true,” I babbled, my mouth dry as cotton. “Oh, Verlan, it's a lie! It's just a lie! Joel can't be dead; his mission isn't over yet! Don't you remember, he's supposed to be here until Jesus comes! Don't cry, honey, he's not dead!”

Floren yanked me out of Verlan's arms. “Let's go,” he barked at him. “You're a target, damn it! You want her in danger? Now, let's go take care of business. Abel, take this girl to her family.”

I got back into the car and watched through the rear window as Verlan and Floren disappeared from my view. When Abel maneuvered the car around the potholes, I hazily noted the huddled groups of people gathered on the street corners of Colonia LeBaron. Their faces mirrored confusion, their eyes incredulous. They carried on a lantern-lit vigil in honor of our fallen leader. I knew they were harboring the same questions, the same denial, and the same horror as I was. Oh, how could this be? Joel, dead? It couldn't be true! God wouldn't allow it—it was all a mistake, a sick, Satanic hoax. Either that, or—or the end of the world was actually here—it was happening right now! These were the only possible explanations.

Abel opened the car door for us in front of my parents' dark, silent home. His round, bespectacled face was a mask of shock, and he wordlessly pulled my suitcase from the trunk and set it on the porch. Then he climbed back in the car and drove away.

Shifting James's weight onto my hip, I pushed open the door to my mother's bedroom. “Mom, it's Susan,” I croaked. “Mom?”

Only silence and the smell of stale air greeted us. I hurried across the porch and into the living room, but even as I felt my way into the kitchen, I knew there was no one home, that the house had been deserted for some time. The musty odor attested to it. One-handed, I felt for a box of matches, found one in a kitchen drawer, and lit a lamp.

Dust covered the counters and table. Dirty dishes piled in the sink, the old food hard and moldy, was causing the smell. Adding to it was a half-filled, rotting garbage can. My stomach rolled, my second month of pregnancy once again making itself blatantly apparent.

Where was my mother and sisters? Carrying the lamp in one hand and James with the other arm, I wandered through the deserted house. How could they be gone, when the whole world was spinning out of control? Maybe with Joel dead they'd been translated up to heaven like Elijah in the Bible. Stranger things had happened—were happening even now.

I sat at the kitchen table, rocked James back to sleep, and stared at the smoking lamp. My mind reeled. The world had gone crazy—it must be coming to an end. The church had constantly preached about the end of the world coming soon, ever since I was a little child, and if the Prophet was actually dead, then there was no other answer. Joel was supposed to be here until Jesus's return; at least, that's what I'd always been taught. So if he were really dead would he come back to life as Jesus had?

I blew out the lamp, grabbed my purse and suitcase with one hand, arranged James's sleeping little body against my other shoulder, and left my mother's empty house. The suitcase was unbearably heavy and cut into my fingers as I hurried across the dark colony toward Grandma LeBaron's. Oh, Grandma, I thought, her sweet old face haunting my thoughts with every step, how can you possibly live through this unspeakable tragedy? This will kill you if it's true. Oh Sweet God in Heaven, don't let it be true! Please, please . . .

A small group of people, huddled in front of Esther Spencer's rock fence, was singing “We Thank Thee, Oh God, for a Prophet” as I stumbled toward them. They turned toward me as I approached, the hymn dwindling away as Maria, my father's second wife shouted out, left the group, and hurried to me.

“Susana, honey, what are you doing here?” she asked amazed, taking my bag and wrapping her free arm around my shoulders. “Is Verlan with you? Did he get here safe?” I nodded as the others crowded around us.

“Uncle Verlan's here? You were with him?” Sammy LeBaron, Abel's brother, eagerly questioned me.

“Yes, we arrived a half hour ago,” I answered. “Verlan's with Floren and Sigfried. He's fine, safe.” I hesitated, loath voicing my horrible question. “Is it really true? Oh, Sammy, is Joel actually dea—gone?” The words choked in my throat.

His colorless lips trembled. “That's what they say—I don't know. Velma Jones, Ossmen's wife, called from San Diego and said Dan Jordan murdered Uncle Joel in cold blood. She said my little cousin, Jeannine's boy Ivan, saw it happen. Ivan saw Dan shoot his dad! That poor little boy.” Sammy turned away, his shoulders hunched.

My heart nearly stopped, my mind exploding with renewed grief and horror. Ivan! Oh, dear Lord, my sweet Ivan, my little buddy—my little helper. I'd left him—just two days ago I'd left him with Lillie in Los Molinos. And yet, somehow he was in Ensenada yesterday and witnessed his own father murdered? Oh, Lord no, no! Not my Ivan. Oh, and Lillie! Joel was her stepfather! She had to be beside herself with grief. And Jeannine . . . her husband dead. It was all too much, too much. I stumbled to a large rock at the edge of Esther's lot and sat down. Burying my face in James's soft shoulder, I sobbed.

Maria's arms crept around me; her tears mingling with my own as she tried to comfort me. “Is okay, Susana, is okay. God is in control. He knows what he's doing, is okay,” she crooned.

“Where are my mother and sisters?” I asked her when I could talk.

“Oh, honey, your Mama's in Utah. I'm so sorry, Querida! Your Grandma got really sick, and your Mama had to go. Two weeks ago, she left—your Papa took her. Fara and Mona are staying at Jay's ranch out at Spencerville. Pobrecita Susanita.” She patted my shoulder and kissed my hair.

I sobbed again, harder. I needed my mother right now! How could she be gone when I'd come all this way! But I couldn't think about that—there were too many horrible things happening, I couldn't be thinking about myself right now. I blew my nose on the edge of James's blanket. “Does Jay know? About Joel?”

“I don't know,” she shrugged. “I haven't seen him, and we all just found out late tonight. But he probably knows. Someone probably drove there to tell him, I think.”

“Maria, this is going to kill Grandma LeBaron,” I whispered, my chin trembling.

“I know, honey. I know.”

“I need to go there. Will you help me?” I asked.

“Yes, but Sammy has his truck here, he'll take you, I'm sure. Momento, I'll ask him.”

I climbed into Sammy's pickup, grateful for the ride. James was so heavy, and with the suitcase, more than I could handle.

“Sam, what's going to happen to us?” I asked as we moved toward Grandma's. “How will we possibly cope if Joel's really gone?”

“I don't know. I don't know!” He wildly shook his head. “I can't imagine it, it's so against everything we've been taught would happen. Who would have ever thought Uncle Ervil would actually do such a hellish thing? Yes, he's been threatening to, but, to actually carry it out! It's just—just unbelievable!”

“Ervil?” I echoed in a whisper. My lips felt stiff. Until this moment I hadn't truly connected the dots. The possibility, then the knowledge, of Joel's death had shut my brain down, and it had refused to accept the appalling fact. Ervil!

“Of course, Ervil!” Sammy snapped bitterly. “Maybe Dan shot him, but Uncle Ervil's the one behind it; you know that! Dan was just the hit man. And, from what I gathered from Ossmen Jones, Uncle Verlan was supposed to have been killed, too. But you guys left San Diego a day early, right? Before they could get to him, thank God! Did you know that? We're mighty lucky that Uncle Verlan's not dead too.”

I bit my lip, trembling. Because of Abel's offering us a ride to Colonia Le­Baron, we had left sooner than originally planned! No wonder Floren had acted as he had and was talking about bodyguards for Verlan! “Maybe you will take care of Verlan, yes?” Ervil's haunting words reverberated in my ears.

As we pulled into the driveway I peered at my watch, then hurried onto Grandma's front porch. Almost two o'clock. As I waited for someone to answer the door, I remembered another late-night visit I'd made to Grandma LeBaron's house. Ervil's evil had been at the center of my visit then, too, but that had been nothing in comparison to this. How could I stand to look into Grandma's eyes tonight?

Lawreve Jensen, the woman whose home I'd stayed in the night of my wedding, answered my timid knock. Behind her, Esther Spencer sat on the couch with Grandma LeBaron. They were clasping hands, their faces masked in sorrow and disbelief.

“Susan! Oh, sweetheart,” Grandma's knobby hands reached for me. I handed James to Lawreve and hurried to her, kneeling and wrapping my arms around her thin shoulders. She shook as she sobbed and moaned, clutching me tightly while rocking back and forth.

“Grandma, oh, Grandma,” I whispered, kissing her cheek over and over. “I'm so sorry. So sorry! I don't even know what to say . . . Oh, I love you so much, and I'm so sorry you have to live through this—this nightmare . . . How I wish I could take it all away from you.” I buried my face in her neck.

“I know, dearie, I know,” she sobbed. “I wish I'd died before this happened, because I can't bear it. My precious boys . . . ” she turned her wet face away, her anguish more than she could stand for anyone to see.

Esther patted my hair and touched my cheek, her face stiff with sorrow. I squeezed her hand and pulled away from Grandma's arms.

“Mother needs to get some rest,” Esther whispered. “Help me get her to bed.”