Desert Wives (9781615952267) (8 page)

He patted the TV, obviously his pride and joy. “Even in my beginning days out here, before it all went sour, I never paid much attention to that kind of stuff. I leave the telephone out so Ruby can call her family any time she wants, not that the girls are always allowed to talk to her.” His voice lowered for a moment. “I'd be careful about using it, if I were you. The Circle of Elders knows too many details about my own phone conversations, and I don't think it's because Ruby's spreading the word. She likes to eavesdrop, but she's pretty loyal.”

I lowered my voice to match his. “Are you warning me the telephone's tapped?”

“I wouldn't be surprised, and don't look so shocked. Do you really think the people around here care about legalities? So, ah, if you need to contact that partner of yours, you'd better ride into town with me when I go for supplies.”

He began to speak normally. “Most of the men here tell their wives and kids that television is dangerous if not managed properly, but I don't mind if you and Ruby watch it every now and then. Just don't go tuning into Oprah or CNN and getting any dangerous ideas about a woman's proper place.”

The thought of Oprah and CNN being dangerous not only took my mind off my anxiety, it made me smile. I bore little love for the boob tube, but knew the polygamists feared that too much exposure to what they termed the Outside would tarnish the blissful ignorance of their plural wives. Especially the younger ones. Speaking of plural wives…

I stopped smiling. “Where's Ruby? I'd like to meet her.”

Saul and I had agreed earlier that Ruby should be kept in the dark about my true purpose in Purity, so meeting my ‘sister wife,' as the polygamists' wives called each other, promised to be an interesting experience.

Just as Saul prepared to answer, I heard the squeak of a door down the hall, then soft footsteps advancing toward us.

“Sister Ruby? You come on out here, hon. I've got someone I want you to meet!”

I tensed, remembering that I was supposed to play the part of a fairly uneducated woman. I didn't see any problem with fooling the compound's men, but fooling a woman might prove more difficult. Even when a woman had little formal education, she could easily spot insincerity in another. I braced myself for a dangerous encounter, but when Ruby finally shuffled into view, pity washed away all my apprehension.

If a human being could truly be said to look like a whipped dog, Ruby did. Her coarsely featured face appeared oddly distorted, as if it had been taken apart and then put together again by inexpert hands. Her brown-and-gray hair was twisted into a tight bun as dull and lifeless as broom straw. We did have one thing in common though, our dresses. Both were long, poorly sewn, and unflattering.

She raised her eyes from a long perusal of my garbage bag luggage, and in a barely audible whisper said, “Brother Saul, it is good to have you home.”

“Sister Ruby, I have wonderful news.”

When Ruby looked at me, I thought I saw one brief flash of recognition when she saw the scar on my forehead. But she might merely have pegged me as another beaten spirit. “Yes, Brother Saul?”

“I've brought you a new sister wife to help around the house. Her name is Lena.”

“Sister wife?” She lowered her eyes and studied the floorboards for a few seconds. Just when I thought she wasn't going to say anything else, she looked up. This time her eyes didn't focus on anyone or anything, just stared off into space. But her jaw clenched. “Yes, that is good news, Brother Saul.”

I held out my hand but the scene with Sheriff Benson replayed itself. She wouldn't shake it. Feeling foolish, I dropped my hand to my side, wondering if there was a chapter on etiquette in Prophet Solomon's Gospel. If so, I needed to bone up. Maybe it said to kiss your new sister wife's cheek and shout, “Glory, Hallelujah!”

“It's nice meeting you, Sister Ruby,” I mumbled, trying for timidity.

Somehow she managed to speak through that clenched jaw. “It's nice meeting you, Sister Lena.” Then she turned around and stalked back down the hall. I heard the door squeak open, and a second later, a slam.

Baffled, I looked at Saul for explanation.

He smiled. “That didn't go half as bad as I thought it would!”

Had we been in the same room? “She's jealous, Saul.”

“You're imagining things. ‘Jealous sister wives will never see the jewel-bright halls of the Highest Heaven,' Solomon writes in the third chapter of the Gospels. Ruby was raised on it, and like all good polygamist women, she believes it.”

Like I said, men are pretty easy to fool.

Formal introductions accomplished, he picked up my garbage bag luggage and led me down the hall to my room, next to Ruby's. After we shut the door behind us, I whispered, “You know, she's probably going to notice that you and I don't, well, that we don't…”

He whispered back. “In most polygamist families, the wife visits the man in his room, then after the guy has his fun the woman can return to her room. As long as you keep up some kind of pretense about visiting me every now and then, she'll never guess our guilty secret.” Raising his voice, he added, “I'll leave you to put your things away, Sister Lena. When you're through, knock on Sister Ruby's door and ask her to show you where everything is in the kitchen. I'll want a nice big breakfast tomorrow.”

I stared at him. “I told you I don't cook.”

“If you can boil water, you're better than me. Or even Ruby.” He winked, then left, closing the door gently behind him.

Bare as a monk's cell, the room held only one narrow bed and a small dresser, with a bright wedding ring quilt providing the only color. Created by Saul's dead wife? Or proof of Ruby's handiwork before she had disintegrated into the gray-on-gray creature she'd become?

Only with difficulty did I refrain from making a break for the front door. But remembering why I was here, I lifted my skirt, took out my .38, and began my usual reconnoiter.

“Rebecca, I hope some day you realize what I've gone through for you,” I whispered, as I scanned the empty closet for a boogeyman. I didn't want her waking up in the middle of the night for the next fifty years, screaming from nightmares.

I had nightmares enough for the both of us.

Chapter 8

Someone banged on the door.

“Wife! Wife! Time to prepare breakfast!”

I lay there, trying to make sense of the words.
Wife? Time to prepare breakfast?
This was one crazy dream.

Then I remembered.

“Coming,” I muttered, crawling out of bed and staggering to the door. I leaned into the frame and hissed, “I told you, Saul, I don't cook!”

“Better act like you're at least trying,” he hissed back. “Ruby's already in the kitchen. You don't want to make her suspicious, do you?”

“All right, all right.” I wrapped my housecoat around me, unlocked the door, and shouldered the grinning Saul aside as I darted past him into the bathroom. I showered in record time, then returned to my room, where I strapped on my gun and donned a granny dress made from a gray on gray print even drabber than the one I'd worn yesterday. Except for my face and hands, the dress covered me completely, with not so much as a pleat or ruffle to soften its severity. As I braided my hair into a tight plait which made the scar on my forehead stand out in bright relief, I stared at myself in the mirror: The well-dressed sister wife. I looked like puke.

“Sister Lena!” Saul's voice. From the kitchen. “The Lord is telling me that you are taking time for vanities.”

Although I knew he said this for Ruby's benefit, it still ticked me off, a warning sign. The perfect sister wife displayed no impatience or temper. Her mind held no thoughts for anything other than the Lord, her husband and her children—in that order. She was a breeding machine, nothing more.

Gritting my teeth, I stuffed my feet into my Reeboks—for some reason not forbidden—and headed toward the kitchen.

Ruby waited by the stove, her dress and hairstyle mirroring my own. She did, however, look less pale today. Her cheeks were pink. “Sister Lena, how come breakfast wasn't ready a half-hour ago? The Lord hates sloth!”

Unless my radar had gone awry, Sister Ruby simmered in a jealous snit. I looked over at Saul to see if he'd noticed.

He sat at the head of the table with his back to her, oblivious. “Oh, Sister Ruby, our dear Sister Lena has lived on the Outside all her life, so she has much to learn.” His voice carried enough conviction to scare me, but then he winked. “Now Sister Lena, I want three eggs sunny-side up, three strips of bacon, two slices of white, buttered toast, and a big glass of milk.”

Cholesterol heaven. I doubted if a Godly wife corrected her husband even when it was for his own good, so I said nothing.

I did my best, but breakfast, after Saul led us in an obligatory prayer from Solomon's
Gospel
, proved disgusting. Cooking by myself with little assist from Ruby, I had somehow contrived to cook the egg yolks granite hard while keeping the whites runny. I burnt the bacon and cremated the toast. Even the milk seemed to curdle in my inexpert hands. Saul, obviously the possessor of a cast iron stomach, ate most of it, albeit with a pained expression. Ruby pushed the runny eggs around on her plate with all the enthusiasm of a full-bore anorexic, while I confined myself to a pear I'd found on the window sill.

“Fruit is good for you,” I said. “It has a lot of fiber. Keeps you regular.”

“Fiber?” Ruby knitted her brow as if the concept of a healthy gastrointestinal tract was altogether alien. “Our husband likes eggs and bacon. It's what he likes that counts around here, not what you think.”

Meow
. But I decided that the woman, who probably saw herself as shunted aside in her husband's affections, deserved sympathy, not sarcasm, so I didn't tell her that pleasing a husband by blocking his arteries was an odd way to show affection. Aloud I said, in a respectful tone, “Perhaps you can teach me how to cook, Sister Ruby. When I lived in the outside world I never cooked, other than to heat up TV dinners.” No lie there.

She gave me a quick glance, then in a studied return to her former meekness, said softly, “Sorry, Sister Lena. The Lord told me my family duty is the laundry.”

I blinked. “Huh? You mean
God
told you to do the laundry?”

Saul came to the rescue. “Before the Lord spoke to Prophet Solomon and gave Sister Ruby to me, she served as sister wife in a large family where each woman was given one specific duty. One wife cooked, one cleaned, one sewed, and Sister Ruby did the laundry.”

A sly smile crept across Ruby's rough features. “Yes, Sister Lena, the Lord spoke unto my husband and told him that I was to wash clothes, and whenever necessary, help with the cleaning. But He didn't tell me to cook.”

It irritated me so much I forgot myself. “Aw, c'mon, Ruby. The
Lord
didn't tell you to do the laundry. Your husband did!”

The sly look disappeared, replaced with one of genuine confusion. “Husbands speak for the Lord, so what difference is there?”

I felt a kick on my shin and looked over to see Saul's disapproving frown. My first morning in Purity and I'd almost blown it already.

Saul cleared his throat and addressed me in a stern voice more suited to a televangelist than a retired contractor. “Like any good sister wife, Ruby speaks the truth. The Lord quite rightly communicates with the husband, who then conveys the message downward to his wives. Why should this surprise you, Sister Lena? Prophet Solomon assured us no thing on Earth is too small for the Lord. He knows who's best suited at tilling the fields and who's best suited for the laundry. Because He can see into our hearts, the Lord never makes mistakes. Therefore, it's a terrible sin not to obey the Lord's message.”

I glared. “You mean the Lord's message according to Prophet Solomon.”

Saul glared back. “Damn straight I do.”

I felt another kick.

Having duly chastised me, Saul turned to Ruby. “Ah, the Lord just reminded me that our Sister Lena is new to the ways of the Church of the Prophet Fundamental and that we shouldn't judge her too harshly for a while. He suggested that you and I, as Godly men and women, lead by example, so I'll rely upon you to help our new family member learn the ways of the godly. You got that?”

Ruby bowed her head, but not before I saw that jaw tighten again. “Of course, husband.”

I managed a smile. “Thank you, Sister Ruby. Your instruction will be most appreciated.” It says something about my commitment to Rebecca that I did not gag as the sycophantic drivel issued from my mouth.

Saul shoved his chair away from the table and stood up. “I've got a lot to do today, Sister Ruby, and I'll need Sister Lena's assistance. I received a phone call last night and was told that Prophet Davis has called a special community meeting up at his house. He wants everyone in Purity in attendance.”

Ruby's mouth gaped. “You mean even
wives?
How will we all fit? His house is big, but…”

“He says he'll handle it like we've handled the Sunday services since they started working on the church. In shifts. We drew the first shift, along with the Circle of Elders, so I don't know whether to dance or cry.” He turned to me, a dry smile on his face. “When he stepped into his father's shoes, Prophet Davis promised to bring reform to Purity, and I imagine that's what this meeting's all about. It'll be interesting, because from what I hear, the Circle of Elders plans to fight him every inch of the way. I hear he's curtailing their power, maybe even disbanding the whole group.”

“I don't believe it!” Ruby burst out. “Reforms? God's word needs no reform!”

“Let's wait and see.” Leaving Ruby fuming into the dishwater, Saul ushered me to into the living room. “It's just more bullshit,” he said, as we sat down on the sofa. “These damned polygamy prophets are always having what they call ‘revelations,' so who knows what crack-brained stuff we'll hear this time. The ‘revelation' will probably turn out to be more about money than anything else. They like to talk God around here, but it's money and sex that really get their knickers in a twist.”

He looked at his watch. “Tell you what. The meeting won't start until ten, so why don't you take a walk around the compound and familiarize yourself with things. But don't challenge anybody like you just did Ruby, okay?”

I bit my lip. “Yes, sir, Brother Saul.”

He cackled, then slapped me on the rump. “Attagirl.”

I left the house with a feeling of relief, swearing that when I got back, I'd have a little talk with hubby and remind him to keep his hands to himself. For now I relished the chance to explore the compound in broad daylight, something I hadn't been able to do during my days in the canyon.

There were fewer people abroad than I expected. Judging from the dearth of pickup trucks, some of the men had probably been working in the distant fields since sunup. Most of the children were in school. Just about the only sign of life I saw, other than the odd skinny dog or two, was a straggly line of people winding their way along the dirt pathway toward the kitchen gardens. Some carried baskets, some hoes. When I grew closer, I made out at least a dozen pregnant teenagers and a smattering of elderly men and women.

Suddenly the front door of one of the trailers located near the chicken runs slammed open. A man and four women, all dressed in Purity's turn-of-the-century garb, emerged to hurry after the gardeners. The man, heavy to the point of obesity, looked at least seventy. Three of the women with him were elderly, too. But the last woman!

Not yet forty, and although her waist had thickened, probably with repeated childbirth, she dazzled like a Nordic goddess. Platinum hair and sky-blue eyes intensified this Valkyrie image, while a rosebud mouth and small, straight nose lent softness to what might have otherwise been an almost masculine physicality. The old man's daughter?

As I watched, the man stopped, reached around her waist and drew her to him. While the other women pursed their lips with disapproval, he gave her a slobbering kiss she didn't return.

I shuddered in sympathy. In any other setting, Beauty would probably have been covered in diamonds instead of faded calico, but here in Purity she'd wound up in the rustiest trailer in the compound. Hers was hardly a love match, either. Judging from the way Beauty cringed away from Beast's kiss, she detested him. Not that Beast noticed—or cared. When he finally came up for air, I saw a look of utter self-satisfaction on his face.

The romantic interlude over (was Beast trying to make his other wives jealous?), the group resumed their hurried pace toward the garden. For a minute I thought about following them, then decided not to. The whole scene was too depressing.

Instead, I walked behind the group of trailers to the livestock pens, clucking at the chickens, mooing at the cows. Still calling sweet nothings to the baffled livestock, I rounded the corner of a shed and saw a boy of about fourteen throwing flakes of hay into a goat pen.

“Shouldn't you be in school?” I asked, before I remembered that Saul had told me not to speak to anyone until I'd been spoken to, and definitely not to challenge any male, however young.

The boy jerked, dropping the hay outside the pen, which made the two goats inside bleat in irritation. Then he caught himself, scooped up the hay and threw it into the pen.

“Sister, you shouldn't sneak up on people like that.” His voice began as a baritone but finished as a soprano.

I would have smiled, but the expression on his face was a study in despair. “Sorry about that. I'm Lena, Brother Saul's new wife.”

His voice rocked and rolled for a moment, then settled down in the alto range. “I'm Brother Meade Royal. Pleased to meet you, Sister Lena. And not that it's any concern of yours, but I'm taking a little time off school this week.” With his pale blond hair and vivid blue eyes, he was a younger version of the Valkyrie I'd seen being so unpleasantly mauled.

I pointed toward the rusty trailer. “You live there?”

He nodded. “Me and my mom, we just moved in. My father's…” A sniffle.

Boys his age never want you to see them cry, so I studied a ground squirrel scampering in a zigzag pattern across the ground.

After a few noisy gulps, Meade regained control. “My father died and Mother had to get married again. Brother Vern had a spare trailer so the Circle of Elders gave her to him.”

Royal
. “Was your father Prophet Solomon, by any chance?”

“Yeah. He was murdered. The police caught the woman who did it.” He looked ready to howl with grief.

What a life. “I'm sorry, Brother Meade.”

He thrust out his chin. “Why be sorry? Father Prophet attained the highest level of Heaven and we should be jubilant.” However, reciting the party line didn't keep a tear from slipping down his cheek.

I wanted to hug the poor child, but since he was trying so desperately to act manful, I restrained myself. No wonder he wasn't in school. His mother probably thought goat-tending would be more therapeutic than algebra, a pretty good judgment call in my estimation.

His mother's hasty remarriage didn't seem like such a good judgment call, however. Saul said the Circle of Elders encouraged widows to remarry as soon as possible, but this was overdoing it. Solomon had been dead, what, a little over a week? For that matter, why did a woman as beautiful as Meade's mother plummet from being the wife of a wealthy prophet to the wife of a trailer dweller?

I had started to question him further when the crack of a rifle shot echoed across the compound and made me jump half out of my Reeboks.

Brother Meade walked over and patted my arm. “Don't be scared, Sister Lena. It's all right. That's just the men hunting down in the canyon. Fried rabbit's delicious. If you've never had any, you ought to try it.”

I like a nice steak, but the thought of nibbling on some cute little bunny depressed me. “I think I'll give it a pass. Well, Brother Meade, it was nice meeting you. Maybe I'll see you later at the community meeting. I'll be at the first session, how about you?”