The Graves of Plague Canyon (The Downwinders Book 3) (6 page)

“I remember you,” Deem said. “You were always a solid, decent
guy.”

Decent?
she thought, trying not to cringe.
No guy wants to hear that he’s
‘decent’. I’m screwing this up.

“Thanks, I guess,” he replied.

“No, I mean it,” she said. “So many people in high school
were awful. You were always one of the good people. That’s what I meant.”

“Oh,” he replied. “Well, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

God, this seems really awkward,
she thought.
Loosen up!
She
reached for the menu and opened it. The waitress came by, but Warren told her
they’d need more time before they were ready to order, and she wandered off.

“You don’t know what you want?” Deem asked him.

“Oh, yeah, I do, but I saw you’d just started reading the
menu, so I figured you could use more time.”

“I can answer for myself, Warren,” she said, still reading
the menu. “I don’t need you to speak to the waitress for me.”

She glanced up and could see Warren was confused and a little
crestfallen. She started to speak to correct herself, thinking she might have
hurt his feelings, but then she remembered that she always hated herself when
she did that with boys, countering how she really felt just to make them feel
better, so she didn’t say anything.

“I’m…” Warren started haltingly. “I’m… sorry. I didn’t mean…
I just… ”

“It’s fine,” Deem said, smiling at him. “I’m not a delicate
little flower like most of the women around here, needing a man to talk for me
and give me permission to do things, or to open my door or pull out my chair. I’ve
got eyes and hands and a mouth. I can speak for myself and open my own doors.”

Warren stared back at her with a huge look of concern.

“Were you thinking I’d be a little miss molly Mormon date,
Warren? Your open mouth makes me think so.”

“Well, I’ll admit I’ve never had a woman start a date like
this,” he replied, gathering his bearings. “I’m a little surprised, but then
again, I shouldn’t be. I know you’re not like most women around here.”

“Does it bother you?”

Warren smiled at her. “No, I find it rather arousing.”

She was surprised at his reaction. Usually when she began to
press her opinions with guys, it quickly ended things. She decided to see if he
was genuine.

“Haven’t known many return missionaries to mention ‘arousal’
on the first date,” she said. “You’re not like most men around here, either.”

“Does that make us outcasts?” Warren asked. “Or just really,
really interesting and hot?”

She laughed.
OK,
she thought.
He survived that; this
might work.

The conversation turned light and pleasant, moving from
history since high school to family and jobs.  Soon their food arrived and Deem
picked at her sandwich while Warren inhaled his within minutes.

“Sorry,” he said. “I ate too fast. I apologize. I was
starving.”

“The sandwiches are so big here,” Deem said. “I think I’ll
wind up taking half of mine home.”

“What’ll you do with the rest of your day?” Warren asked.
“What do you like to do for fun?”

“Well, I like to spend time outdoors,” she replied. “Hiking,
obviously.”

“Me too. I’m lucky my job keeps me outside most of the time.”

“If you’re off at one, how early do you start?”

“5, when it’s still dark.”

“That’s a long shift,” Deem said.

“Not really. It’s eight hours. Then a second shift comes on,
from one to ten. I’d rather work mornings.”

“And then there’s a shift from ten to five?” Deem asked. “A
graveyard shift?”

“Nah, Hinton doesn’t keep people out there at night. I think
he figures no one would want to be out in the desert at that time anyway.”

“Oh, so no one’s there at night,” Deem said out loud,
immediately regretting how it sounded.

“You thinking about going back?” Warren asked. “Now that you
got that out of me?”

“Well, no, I don’t know,” Deem replied, knowing she needed to
cover herself. “Who would want to see the canyon at night, anyway?”

“Exactly,” Warren replied. “Not to mention how dangerous it
is. Probably ten times worse at night.” He studied her face for a moment; she
seemed lost in thought.

“You really
do
want to go there, don’t you?” he asked.

Deem snapped from her drifting. “What makes you say that?”

“You look like you want to. I can tell.”

“You can’t tell.”

“I can. It’s all over your face. You’re trying to figure out
how to sneak back in there at night.”

Shit
, she thought.
I didn’t play that very well.
“Alright, you caught
me. Yes, I’m intrigued by that canyon. I suppose being told I can’t see it
makes it all the more intriguing.”

“Just like you were in high school!” Warren said, smiling.
“You know, there’s a much easier way for you to get back there, easier than
sneaking in at night.”

“What?” she asked.

“Just ride in there with me, on horseback.”

“Really?”

“You’re not a trespasser if you’re with me, along for the
ride.”

“You won’t get in trouble?”

“The other guys who work the ranch have visitors all the
time. I think Hinton likes to have them, as long as they’re on his side of
things, and not on the government’s side. It’s a strength-in-numbers thing to
him.”

“So, you’re saying you’d take me in with you?”

“I’ll ride with you to the mouth of it, at least,” Warren
replied. “I’ve ridden that far myself, despite the warnings. But that’s as far
as I’ll take you, and it’s as far as you should go. If you’d heard the stories
I have about the place, you wouldn’t want to go any farther, either.”

“You work tomorrow?” Deem asked.

“You wanna go tomorrow?” Warren smiled at her. She looked for
a moment at his smile, which was a little crooked, but one hundred percent
genuine.
He’s pleased I want to spend more time with him,
she thought.
But
he’s not sure if that’s the reason I’m asking.

“Yeah, tomorrow!” she replied with just enough enthusiasm to
mask her intentions.

“OK,” Warren said. “Meet me where your friend parked his Jeep
at 9 tomorrow morning. We’ll go from there.”

The waitress came by and dropped the check at the table. Deem
reached out and grabbed it before Warren could get to it.

“You’re not paying for this,” Warren said.

“Oh, yes I am,” Deem replied, reaching for her credit card.
“If you’re going to give me a tour of the canyon tomorrow, the least I can do
is take care of lunch.”

“Well,” Warren said, leaning back in his chair, “never had a
woman pick up the check before. And it feels very quid pro quo.”

“That’s because you’ve never met someone like me before,” Deem
replied. “Does it bother you?”

“That’s the second time you’ve asked me that,” Warren
replied.

“And what’s your answer this time?”

“Same as the first,” he said, his smile reappearing. With him
pressed back in his chair, Deem could see his upper body even better than when
he’d been on the horse, and she noticed how his t-shirt hugged his torso,
outlining muscles on his chest.
Impressive,
she thought,
but don’t
let your face show it!
Something was different about Warren than she’d
expected, and she was trying to put her finger on it. Was it his better than
average response to her feminist edge? The way he’d kept the conversation funny
and interesting? Unlike other dates, he’d not talked incessantly about himself
— was that it? How about the fact that he’d mentioned arousal? Not something
she would have expected of a nice Mormon boy.

All of that had appealed to Deem, and she found herself
liking Warren, ready to chalk up the first date as a success provided they made
it out of the café without an incident that ruined things. Then, as she studied
Warren stretched back in his chair, it came to her, the reason why she thought
something was different: no garment line.

He couldn’t have been back from his mission for more than a
year,
she thought.
And
he’s not wearing garments under that t-shirt — I can tell. There’s no ring
around his neck, the surefire giveaway that you’re dealing with a male Mormon.
Did he take them off for this date? Or does he not wear them anymore? If so,
that would mean a significant break with the church.
She tucked the
discovery into her brain, knowing that if she continued to see him, it’d come
up down the road.

She settled the bill and took out an uneaten half-sandwich.
Warren tried to get ahead of her to open the restaurant door for her, but there
were a lot of people waiting in line and Deem made sure she got to the door
first, opening it for him instead. She could see he was a little disappointed
that he hadn’t made it in time. They walked down the sidewalk to the parking
lot.

“Well, I think that went pretty well, don’t you?” Warren
asked.

“You didn’t freak out when I held the door open for you, so
yes,” she replied.

“Actually, it was nice,” Warren replied. “You’re quite the
gentleman.”

“How gracious you are, my lady.”

Deem saw Warren come to a stop, and she thought,
Uh oh, I
just crossed the line. Threatened his manhood by calling him a lady. Here we
go.

He turned to her, and she looked at him. He clearly wasn’t
upset. In fact, he looked the opposite. “Here’s my car. I really did have a
nice time, Deem,” he said. “It was great to catch up with you.”

Deem was relived. “Me too, Warren. So, tomorrow morning? 9?”

“Can’t wait,” he said, and opened his car door.

She turned and walked to her truck.
From the look on his
face,
she thought,
he really meant it. And I need to stop assuming he’ll
behave like most guys around here. He’s already proven he doesn’t.

When Deem pulled her truck into the turnout the next morning,
Warren was waiting there for her, an extra horse in tow. She stopped the truck
away from the animals and got out.

“You drive a truck,” Warren stated as she approached him.

“Yeah, it was my father’s before he passed,” she replied.

Warren was staring at her, smiling, holding the reins of both
horses.

“What?” she asked.

“It just keeps getting better,” he replied, extending the
reins of one of the horses to her.

“What, because I drive a truck?”

“Any woman who drives a truck is alright by me,” he said.

“Oh, I see,” she replied. “Am I earning merit badges in your
mind?”

He blushed a little. “You know how to ride?”

Deem slipped two fingers under the saddle girth on the side
of the horse, checking the tightness. Then she placed the reins in her left
hand, grasped the mane and the back rim of the saddle, slipped her left foot
into the stirrup and swung her right leg up and over the horse.

She looked down at Warren. “Another merit badge?”

Warren’s smile turned into an outright grin. He walked to his
horse and mounted it, then he led them down a trail toward the canyon. Deem
loved the smell of damp sagebrush all around them, the result of overnight dew.
It was a smell she associated with being outdoors in the early morning, and it
always appealed to her. She moved her horse up next to Warren.

“You know, it’s not like you’re not keeping track of me,
too,” Warren said. “I know how this works. We’re each ticking off checkmarks
next to a list of things we like and we don’t like.”

“Let me guess… can ride a horse, check. Next up, wide hips
for proper childbearing.”

Warren laughed out loud. “Damn, you’re funny!”

“He curses… check.”

“She doesn’t mind me cursing, check.”

Now Deem laughed. “It’s a little annoying, isn’t it?”

“Kinda,” he said, “even though it’s reality.”

Deem studied the shirt he was wearing this morning. It wasn’t
revealing enough for her to determine if he was wearing garments. She looked
down at his jeans, looking for the raised line mid-thigh that was the other
giveaway — nothing was there.

“You don’t wear garments anymore?” she asked, knowing she’d
just turned their light conversation down a much more serious path.

“Nah, I don’t.” He didn’t elaborate, and the moment hung in
the air uncomfortably. “That’s a problem, isn’t it?”

“No,” Deem said. “I don’t mind.”

“Not exactly the answer I was expecting from a Stake
President’s daughter,” he said.

“In some ways, I’m kind of relieved to see you’re not wearing
them,” Deem said. “My relationship with the church is a lot more complicated
than most of the girls you probably know.”

“I think that’s one of the reasons I like you,” Warren
replied. “There’s nothing traditional or simple about you. You’re the least
boring woman I’ve met.”

“That sounds like a compliment, so I’ll take it,” Deem said.

“I’m guessing your father’s passing had something to do with
it,” Warren said gently.

She knew he was treading carefully, not wanting to step on
something that might offend. “No, I’d been drifting long before that,” she
replied. “My father knew. He wasn’t upset about it, which was one of the things
I really appreciated about him. He was supportive no matter what. My mom still
tries to get me to go, but I haven’t been in years, and have no interest in
it.”

She knew that on a second date in Utah, what she’d just said
would be relationship suicide. She waited for him to reply.

“I haven’t been since I came back from New York,” Warren
replied. “Took off the garments the day after I gave my homecoming talk.
Haven’t worn them since, haven’t been back to church either.”

“Why?”

“It’s a long story,” Warren said. “Started on my mission.
Maybe I’ll tell you about it sometime. Then, since I’ve been home, I’ve
committed enough indiscretions that they wouldn’t take me back, even if I
wanted to go back. Not without a year of waiting, and I wouldn’t put myself
through that shit.”

Deem smiled when he swore. She felt the same way about the
church’s disfellowship and excommunication processes, having seen many of them
happen with her father in charge, and more recently when his replacement tried
to excommunicate her.

“So you obviously swear,” Deem said. “Do you drink?”

“A beer or two has passed my lips, yes,” he replied.

“Smoke?”

“Nah, can’t stand it.”

“Chew?”

“Hell no.”

“Coffee?”

“Love the smell, can’t stand the taste.”

“Me too,” Deem said. “I don’t get why so many people like
it.”

“Me neither.”

They rode for a minute in silence, then Deem started the
questioning back up again.

“Do they try to get you to come back?”

“Yeah, for a while,” Warren replied. “My parents, home
teachers, that kind of thing. When I moved from Mesquite to Hurricane, that
helped a lot. They still came around, but I told them to back off, and for the
most part they have. What about you? You just drifted away?”

“Pretty much,” Deem said. “I never liked going, and I never
liked all the rules. High school was bad enough with all the cattiness and
bullshit, but then I’d go to church and get the same crap. All the same
assholes I hated at school were there in my Laurels class. I told my dad I
wasn’t going anymore, and I just stopped. I know it upset him, and I’m sure it
didn’t set a good example for the Stake, but I had to be honest about it.”

The wooden warning sign was coming into view, and Deem rode
up to it, dropping into the River quickly to inspect it. There was the mark in
the upper right corner, looking exactly like the one she’d seen in Claude’s
notes. Nothing on the sign changed as she viewed it from within the flow.

“Wonder how long that sign has been there,” Warren said as he
rode past. “Looks ancient.”

Deem tried again with no result. She realized she’d have to
leave the sign and follow Warren, or it would look weird. She got behind him
and they moved past it. She turned in her saddle to look back at it, desperate
to discover something, and then she saw it, scrawled on the back of the sign,
near the bottom:

SEE A FREE WASHINGTON

What the fuck?
she thought.
See a free Washington?

She dropped out of the flow and continued to ride with
Warren. Soon they were at the mouth of the canyon, looking up into the steep
red rock walls about a thousand feet apart from each other. Warren’s horse
whinnied and turned.

“It gets narrower the deeper you go,” he told her.

“You’ve never been past this point?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “You can see the horses are spooked. I got a
job to do when I’m patrolling, and I don’t have the time to haul back in there,
even if I wanted to. And I don’t want to.”

“Aww, come on,” Deem said. “It’s just a canyon. I’ve heard
rumors of undiscovered ruins in there.”

“Hardy told me they’re dangerous, loaded with disease,”
Warren replied. “He’s my shift manager. He seems to know every inch of Hinton’s
land.”

“So he’s never been in there, himself?” Deem asked.

“Didn’t ask him. He said it in a way that didn’t make you
want to question him about it. You remember that news story about a biologist
who caught bubonic plague in the Grand Canyon? It happens.”

“I seem to remember that,” Deem replied. She could see Warren
was about to turn his horse and head back, so she tried to memorize what she
could see, how the cliffs on the sides of the canyon went deeper and then
turned to the right in the distance. As with most canyons, a small streambed
ran out of its center, surrounded by the greenest plants of the desert.

Warren noticed her staring. “Dangerous during flash flood season,
especially deep in, like The Narrows. Water runs down this bed, meets up with the
Virgin River at some point.”

Warren’s horse whinnied again, and he turned from the canyon.
“Come on, let’s head back.”

Deem gave her reins a flick, and her horse turned to follow
Warren. She studied his back. His shoulders were broad, and she appreciated how
the curve of his butt nestled into the saddle.

If I’m not interested in him, I’ll have to let him know right
away,
she thought.
It’s
not fair to him to string him along, just for trying to get into this canyon.
He’s a nice guy and doesn’t deserve to be treated like that.

If I’m not interested in him…
Am I interested in him?

She looked up at his shoulders and butt once again and
remembered how simply and earnestly they’d talked on the ride out.
He’s not
a show off. He’s manly, but he’s not a macho asshole. He didn’t balk when I
paid the tab at lunch yesterday. He didn’t come unglued when I called him a
lady. He’s not all those things you dislike about men.

And I did enjoy being around him today. He’s funny, quick
witted, and easy to talk to.

Yeah, I like him. I guess I’m interested.

▪ ▪ ▪

“It’s simple,” Winn said. “The bottom of the sign was knocked
off, remember? Punctuation under the letters was gone.”

“Punctuation?” Deem asked, sitting at Carma’s dining table.

“It means to see someone named A. Free who lives in
Washington City,” Winn replied. “Imagine a period after the letter A, and a
comma after the word ‘free’. ‘See A. Free, Washington’. Simple.”

“I thought it was some constitutionalist crap,” Deem said.
“Like visualize a free Washington, D. C. something or other.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Winn replied. “We’re in
Washington county, and the city of Washington is right outside St. George. Most
likely it was referring to that.”

“Yeah, but ‘A. Free’? Like someone named Al Free or Andy
Free? Seems like a stretch.”

“It’s the best lead we’ve got,” Winn replied.

“I must agree with Winn,” Carma said. “If the bottom part of
the sign was missing, that would make sense.”

“Well, the letters
were
cut off at the bottom,” Deem
admitted, “so you could be right.”

“We just have to find someone named A. Free in Washington,”
Winn said, rising from the table. “Is your laptop on in the other room?”

“Yes,” Deem said. “But don’t poke around on it. Just the
browser. And don’t search for porn. I’ll know if you did.”

“Not if I erase the history,” Winn said as he left the room.

“The test of good manners is to be patient with the bad
ones,” Carma said to the air in front of her.

“He’s all excited about this idea,” Deem said to Carma,
sliding another piece of meat onto her fork. “He just forgot to excuse
himself.”

“Yes, but manners, manners,” Carma said. “Where would we be
in life if we didn’t have manners?”

“Less civilized,” Deem said, slipping the fork into her
mouth.

“At least you understand, my dear,” Carma said, reaching out
a hand and placing it over Deem’s. “I take solace that not all hope is lost for
the new generation. Your music and entertainment is foul, your attention spans
are that of a gnat, but at least some of you still understand the necessity of
excusing yourself from the table.” She smiled and patted Deem’s hand. “So you
liked this young boy who took you riding?”

“I didn’t say that,” Deem replied.

“You didn’t have to; I could tell,” Carma said. “It was
written all over your face.”

“I hope Winn didn’t notice it.”

“No, he wouldn’t. Don’t worry.”

“Yes, I kind of liked him. I mean, yeah, he’s in the way of
us getting into that canyon, but he doesn’t get all stupid and macho when he
finds out I’m not demure and desperate to get married.”

“A rarity around here,” Carma said.

“Yes,” Deem replied. “And he’s got a sort of magnetism about
him. I like being around him.”

“Handsome? Well built?”

Deem blushed a little. “Yes, I think so, not that that really
matters to me.”

“You’re a liar, my dear,” Carma said, pointing the tip of her
knife at her. “Of course it matters. Does he make you swoon?”

“Swoon?” Deem repeated. “I’m not sure I know what the word
means.”

“When you see him, do you feel faint and reach for something
to grab to hold yourself up? That’s swooning.”

“No, Carma, I don’t swoon. I don’t think it’s in me to swoon.
That, and it’s the twenty-first century. Women don’t swoon anymore.”

“Oh, we used to swoon in my day. I remember the first time I
saw Lyman. I passed out. Got a big gash on the back of my head.”