He's stuffing it into his pocket when he eases his prosthesis down from the cab and manages to get balanced. A man sits on his front porch and gives a wave. Lord God's good eye is cloudy with dust and all he sees is a fuzzy image of a stranger at his house. He doesn't wave back and keeps a poker frown as he walks up his path and steps onto the porch.
    It's Hiram Page with two red jerry cans at his feet. His face is like a visage in a dream, a fog- enshrouded grinning figure. He calls out, Good day, Reverend!
    You been waiting here long?
    No, sir, says Page. Just long enough to relax the sore muscles in my back.
    What can I do ya for?
    Nothing. Nothing at all. I just happened to come upon a windfall of some good fuel. I thought you might could find a use for it. Hiram Page nudges one of the jerry cans with the tip of his boot. You need any more, I can get it.
    And to what do I owe this favor?
    To nothing. To being neighborly. Page smiles with all his white teeth.
    Lord God stares at the jerry cans and then looks Page square in the eye. I find that hard to believe.
    A pulse of hot wind rattles loose asphalt shingles on the roof. They make a flapping sound. The dust gets in Page's face and he sits there, squinting and rubbing his eyes. You wouldn't be looking a gift horse in the mouth, now, would you?
    There's no free lunch. I like to know why.
    Why what?
    Why are you giving this to me?
    Not just to you but to all of you. You, your daughter, Ruby, and her baby girl.
    We got no need for handouts.
    It's no handout. The Lord tells good people to share and especially to share among the righteous. No strings attached. You don't want two containers of good fuel, fine with me. I'm sure someone else will find a use for it.
    Well, I'm sure I could use it too. But I could use a lot of things I won't accept someone giving me for nothing.
    Maybe you ought to open up a bit. Not be so suspicious.
    You don't get something for nothing. That's one of the basic laws of the universe.
    I never was one to accept laws, basic or not.
    Your choice. Me, I pay attention to the laws.
    It's a new world order, Mr. Cole. Laws? They're going out of fashion. Fast.
    Lord God pins Page with a stare that goes through him and beyond. He's a man who prides himself on being able to read people. He believes he can look into a man's soul by the way he holds his face, by the way he moves his hands, by the way he stands. And here's this Saint with two wives already, showing up at his doorstep with a king's ransom of gasoline, smiling like an insurance salesman.
    He wears new blue jeans with fancy stitching like he's about to do a two- step on the stage of the Grand Ole Opry. His hair is white and combed slick with some kind of goop and he looks like he bleaches his teeth. He opens his mouth wide when he talks to show them off.
    You don't like to be beholden to any man, says Page. I understand that. But that's not a reason to turn down a gift. Something your daughter and her daughter could well use.
    Lord God does not invite him into the house. He sits down on an old wooden bench beside the front door and stares out at the prairie, grit in his eyes. The corner of the house protects them from the worst wind. They watch the dust clouds roil like herds of ghost buffalo across the fields.
    There's a right and wrong to everything. The world is full of choices. The Lord offers us goodness, and Satan tempts us to the wicked.
    Hiram Page nods. I admire a man of strong convictions.
    That may be, says Lord God. But do you follow those convictions your own self ?
    I have my own ideas about the world, Mr. Cole. Hiram Page squints into the dusty vision of the mountains in the west. I look out here and I see a simple world. I look thereâ he nods toward the east, toward townâ and I see complexity.
    A thing is either right or wrong, says Lord God. Always. Gray is the color of mice. A weak and inferior creature. Something to keep out of your house. Something to set a trap for. Gray is for the professors and doctors, the people who say, Money is no object. For the rest of us, it's an object and it's one that's hard to get. Maybe harder than ever. For a while we had lots of it. Now we don't. Get used to it.
    I couldn't agree with you more, Mr. Cole. That's why I'm here to help.
    Lord God turns away from Hiram and spits. I've never been one to be needing help.
    You don't trust me, do you? I'm sorry to hear that.
    A man has to earn trust. Isn't that what they say?
    They say a lot of things. They say it's wrong for a man to have more than one wife. What if he keeps all his wives safe and sound? I remember a sermon you preached a couple months back about this poor gal who forgot her child in the car and left the windows rolled up as she worked at a restaurant. The little boy died of heat prostration and his mother, well, you can imagine how she felt.
    I remember that story. She's a single mother with too much on her plate. Running around trying to raise a baby boy and make ends meet at the same time. She was supposed to drop the boy off at day care. But she was late. She forgot he was in the car.
    You know if she had a husband who treated her right, that boy would be alive today. So what if he had another wife? What if he provides for both of them, gives them warm clothes, a roof over their heads, food on the table? Cares for their children? We're coming down from a time when we were gluttons. Fat and sassy is over. The world is turning.
    Lord God nods. There's still a right and wrong to things.
    There's an art to having more than one wife. It's not always easy.
How many you got?
Two.
So where would Ruby fit in?
    She'd be the third. I don't count them up that way, but I suppose they do now and then.
    I've got one wife, says Lord God. He pauses, staring into Hiram Page's eyes with a look of scorn and pain. And she won't have me around anymore.
    We all hurt somehow.
    That's easy for you to say, with two wives at home. Juliet waited for me all that time I was in the Arab desert. She was a good woman all that time. It wasn't until I got back that she decided she couldn't take me anymore.
    People say it's unnatural, having two wives. Or three. But you know the worst thing, don't you?
    I don't know. A lot of things are bad. I wouldn't put a word to the worst amongst them.
    You live it every day, Brother Cole.
    I live my life is what I live.
    The worst thing is being alone. And a man with two wives, he's never alone.
    I'm not alone. My granddaughter here fills my house like a bright light. She's like a comet to my night. She's more than I can say.
    That's the joy of children.
    And if you take Ruby as a wife, what then? She'll be just another wife to you? And my daughter and my granddaughter will be living with you. And me alone.
    I'll look after both of them. Times are hard and I'll protect them.
    That's what I do.
    Hiram Page says, You think I'm trying to buy your daughter, don't you?
    I didn't say that.
    A man's words have meaning, Mr. Cole. I'm not stupid. I heard that explanation of right and wrong and I sense you're saying that what this gasoline here is is a bribe of some sort.
    Back in the day the Cheyenne would buy their brides with horses. This isn't too far from that now, is it?
    You could say that. If you ask me, a man deserves a gift for giving up his daughter in marriage. And it's not me alone, either. This kind of thing has been going on for thousands of years. Probably back to fires in caves, hides of fur and flint knives. Maybe this is a taste of the past in the future.
    Lord God sits on the bench and watches the wind strip the dust off the prairie. The aspens by the woodshed whip and sway in the wind, their leaves now dusted and abused- looking. Maybe all things are coming around to the old ways, he says.
    You're right about that. How many wives did Abraham have?
    Lord God scratches his good leg. Refresh my memory.
    He had more than one, I know that, say Hiram.
    Two, says Lord God. Sarah and Keturah. He lived to be one hundred and seventy- five years old, he did. And Sarah passed away before he took another wife.
    Hiram stands and brushes the dust off his hands. He looks a bit put out. And then there's King Solomon, he says. But I won't waste any more of your time, Mr. Cole. Let me tell you this: People say I'm not to be trusted. As you might imagine I find that insulting. I know that people say it and think it. The reality is none say it to my face. And if they do they live to regret it. Myself I don't have many regrets expect perhaps the women I was not able to help and provide for a better life. That is in terms of both physical comfort and spiritual well- being. A good woman not only enjoys a certain degree of physical comfort but she both expects and deserves it.
    There's more to life than comfort, says Lord God.
    That there is. Hiram Page lifts his chin and stands to go. Now, I come from Custer County and we have the strongest and loveliest women in the world but they don't always get to enjoy the comfort they deserve. It's cold in the winter and windy in the summer. Some winters the best you can do is shovel a canyon out your front door. Come summertime the wind will blow so hard you can't hear yourself think.
    I've been there, says Lord God. The wind is a bother, that's for sure.
    One year the wind blew a woman's mind clean away so she tore off her clothes and ran naked and screaming across the prairie. It was a sad thing to see. But we weren't surprised. It fills your ears with an unholy roar like you got a seashell cupped up against your ears constant- like. So people ask me why I have two wives. Me, I wonder why I have so few. I do get along with women quite well and I'm not ashamed to admit that I know how to keep a woman happy. Thank her for what she's cooked you for dinner and show her a good time now and then. Make sure she has plenty of work to do to discourage any foolishness. Tell her how nice she looks but don't let her get a big head about it.
    Amen, says Lord God.
    The prophet Joseph said it's the duty of every man to propagate the world. You don't do that by sitting around a bar, polluting your body with drink and whining about how some filly broke your heart. You get out amongst them. You find a woman who is glad to have your attention. You make her happy and keep her safe. The world is a dangerous place. Women know it and want to be protected. That's where I come in.
    That's all fine and dandy, says Lord God. But I still got a daughter with a mind of her own. I'll tell you what. I'll take that offer of gasoline and thank you kindly. But there's no guarantee of anything. The best I can do for you is set up a how- do. I'll do my best but if you want her for a wife, it's going to be her choice, not mine.
    I respect that, says Page. Winston Churchill put it right: We make a living by what we get. We make a life by what we give.
    Lord God rises stiffly and limps to the front door. He pauses there for a minute, still watching the wind whipping the aspen branches into a state. I'll talk to her about a meeting here. I might could set that up.
    Hiram Page dusts off his hat. That sounds good to me. He sticks out his hand and shakes Lord God's hard and fast. We'll be in touch, okay?
    Lord God nods. I'll make sure that's good with Ruby. Then I'll give you a call.
    He stands inside the screen door and watches Page drive away. The dust clouds cast a milky reflection in Lord God's pale eyes. After a moment, he drags the jerry cans through the yard, back to the woodshed.
J a c k  B r o w n  v i s i t s the pawnshop three times before he catches Hiram page behind the counter, busy with customers. Brown's hands are sweating and he wipes them on his jeans as he stands there, waiting his turn. He's silently rehearsing his argument of how much money he's owed for his role in the hijacking, how much the ring might be worth. He knows Page is a shrewd customer. One not likely to open his wallet out of the goodness of his heart.
    Finally Hiram comes to him and says, in his rich voice, So the prodigal cousin returneth, bearing his hat in hand.
    Brown hitches up his pants and puts his hat back on his head. The first thing you'll learn about me is I'm a man of my word.
    Maybe not the first thing, but let's not quibble. Words are men's daughters, but God's sons are things.
    What's that supposed to mean?
    In the vernacular? Put up or shut up.
    Jack Brown puts the jewelry box on the counter and taps the glass with it twice. This is a carat and a half of top- quality diamond, set in white gold, over a hundred years old too. So it's no bloody diamond, for what that's worth.
    Hiram Page says nothing and opens the jewelry box as if it may contain a bomb. He takes the ring and looks it over closely. And how did you manage to retrieve this piece of ice? he asks. Last I heard your ex- Mex sweetheart absconded from my nephew's house with an Apache. Hiram raises his eyebrows and adds, Who left him with a rough- cut scalp.
    You might not believe this but they just up and gave it back. Dropped it off at my house like a lawn mower they borrowed. The damnedest thing.