Righteous04 - The Blessed and the Damned (12 page)

Finally, dawn. He dragged himself the last couple of miles to the car. His father’s pickup truck was already gone. Jacob felt a little better once he’d poured water from one of the gallons in the trunk, splashed his stubbled face, and wet back his hair. He drove back to Blister Creek.

The Christianson family was out in full force this morning. Several of Jacob’s younger brothers played soccer by the side of the house, two girls sat in the shade of the veranda doing schoolwork, another brother—this one a teenager—trimmed the bushes below the veranda, and Fernie’s mother hung laundry to flap in the warm, dry air.

Abraham Christianson sat on the front porch with an open Book of Mormon on his lap. A woman sat in the rocking chair next to him. Jacob assumed at first it was one of the wives, but as he approached, he was surprised to see that it was the woman he’d confronted on the mountain. She’d changed into a prairie dress and wore a scarf over her head that concealed her short hair. She met his gaze.

Rebecca.

Jacob stepped onto the porch and looked back and forth between his father and the strange woman. Abraham Christianson put the tips of his little fingers to the corners of his mouth and let out a piercing whistle. A second whistle, then a third. The kids playing on the side of the house picked up the soccer ball and moved around back. Jacob’s brother, trimming the hedge, gave a glance at the porch, tucked the shears under his arm, and disappeared. Fernie’s mother, finishing hanging a shirt, then left the laundry basket with the rest of the wet clothes and went in the side entrance. The girls followed her inside. Moments later, the three of them were alone on the porch.

“Well trained,” Rebecca said. “Like whistling at sheepdogs. Wonder what your grannie would say about that. She didn’t care much for treating people like animals.”

Abraham smiled. “Or, I could have fetched one of the kids, sent him around to tell all the others that we needed privacy. Someone would have been confused and needed clarification, and someone else would have asked how long until they could come back. It would have taken fifteen minutes to get the message through.”

“Or
we
could have moved,” Jacob said, “instead of making a dozen other people stop whatever they were doing.”

“You never argued with the whistle system when you were a boy,” his father said.

“I also ate spinach and split-pea soup. These days, I dish up my own plate.”

Abraham said, “My father had a whistle for everyone in the house. Mine was this.” He whistled high, low, high. “
Ab-ra-ham.
My mother’s was this.” Another whistle. “
Su-san, come here.
It felt demeaning, I’ll admit, but the principle is solid. Effective.”

“What’s going on here?” Jacob asked. He leaned against the railing and eyed the two. “Rebecca, is it? Dad, who is this person?”

“He’s as blunt as you are,” Rebecca said. “Like father, like son—in that way, at least.”

“What was she doing at Dark Canyon?” Jacob asked. “And who was the guy in the tank top?”

Abraham said, “If you think about it, a whistle is language distilled to its essence. You don’t have to worry about tone of voice or having your words misinterpreted.” He repeated the whistle from earlier, but in a lower volume. “It means
leave…me…now.
Three sharp blasts, all the same tone. It implies a certain seriousness about my desires, and I don’t have to yell or lose my temper.”

“Is this how your own father talked to you?” Jacob asked. “Instead of telling you what you wanted to know, he’d tell you what he thought you needed to know? And when you were an adult, with your own family, did he still talk to you like you were six years old?”

“Don’t be so impatient,” Abraham said.

“I can be plenty patient, but David is still up there, and so is Sister Miriam. I need to know what they’re dealing with.”

“I assume you believe they can take care of themselves,” his father said, “or you wouldn’t have left them alone.”

Jacob turned to Rebecca. “Fine, maybe you can tell me what’s going on.”

She looked amused. “I’d rather not get in the way of this little family argument. I’m curious to see who will come out on top.”

He looked back to his father. “You found Taylor Junior, and you knew I was looking for him, didn’t you? Yes, I can tell you did. So you probably know what I’m planning to do.”

“You think you can bring them back.” An edge of irritation came into Abraham’s voice. “This isn’t like David. These are servants of Satan, and they want nothing more than to destroy a prophet of the Lord.”

“A prophet of the Lord?” Jacob asked. “Who are we talking about here, you or me?”

“Both of us. It’s my calling now, but you have been foreordained.”

Jacob pulled up another chair and turned it so he’d be facing the other two. “That answers one of my concerns—were you working with Taylor Junior or against him?”

“What an insulting question,” Abraham said.

“Yes it is, isn’t it? Maybe if you’d come right out and tell me what’s going on, I wouldn’t have to flail about with a bunch of blind questions. And then you wouldn’t be insulted.”

“Why do you care, Jacob? What’s it to you?”

Jacob blinked. “What’s it to me? I’m trying to save these people, don’t you get it yet? What I did to David, that’s what I’m trying to do to all of them.”

“It’s not your mess, and it’s not mine, either. We have nothing to do with those people and their poor choices.”

“You don’t take any responsibility for this?”

“Why should I?” Abraham asked.

“They’re up there because of you, because of all the fathers and all the church leaders. A boy acts up and you drive him out. A man doesn’t salute your priesthood and he’s gone.”

“Are you going to defend Brother Stanley? He was abusing his children. Elder Kimball defrauded the church. His sons murdered your brother and kidnapped Eliza. Eric Froud sodomized his younger sister. He’s lucky we drove him from town. If there was
any justice, I would have tossed him from the Ghost Cliffs. Those are the captains of Taylor Junior’s army.”

“I’m not talking about the captains, I’m talking about the rest of them. Their wives and children, the others who are scared and have nowhere to go. You think they want to be up there? They don’t, Dad, they want to be here. You’re their shepherd. Go after the lost sheep.”

“Lost sheep,” his father said. “So you’re defending child abusers and murderers now. I see.”

“I’m not—” Jacob stopped himself. The conversation had slipped away from him. He glanced at Rebecca, who sat with her arms crossed and the hint of a smile at her lips. He took a deep breath, forced himself to remain calm. “Can you tell me this at least? How did you find Taylor Junior?”

“I am the prophet. The Lord told me.”

“You’ll forgive me, but I don’t find that answer satisfying.”

“If the truth doesn’t satisfy you, I don’t know what to say,” Abraham said. “But I’m happy to clarify. My calling is prophet, seer, and revelator. A seer sees things with his spiritual eyes. I saw with my spiritual eyes that Taylor Junior was the Antichrist.”

“Oh, come on. The Antichrist? No, never mind. Go on.”

Abraham said, “And as a revelator, I prayed to the Lord to reveal hidden truths, and He showed me where to find Taylor Junior and his false church.”

Jacob let the skepticism show on his face. “Really? This is all you’ve got?”

Rebecca shrugged. “He’s simplifying months of investigation, but I’ll admit that your father had certain insights that led us to search the Dark Canyon Primitive Area.”

“Will you please tell me who this person is?” Jacob asked, pointing at the woman.

“I told you, my name is Rebecca,” she said. “I’m from Blister Creek.”

“Really? I’ve never seen you here before.”

“It has been a while.”

“Are you living some kind of double life? Is that why you were wearing a sleeveless shirt when you came to Zarahemla a few weeks ago?”

“Everyone leads a double life,” she said. “Multiple lives. Even you. You’re a father, a husband, a doubter, a spiritual leader. You help your friends and battle your enemies. And sometimes, you make alliances of convenience.”

“I do? How is that?”

“Like when you cooperate with the FBI.”

“What are we talking about here?” Jacob asked. “Why you and my father are working together? Or why you want me to work with the two of you?”

“Both,” Abraham said. “All three of us have different reasons, but we all want the same thing, and that is to destroy Taylor Junior and break up his growing church.”

“I know my reason,” Jacob said, “and I can guess yours, but what about hers?”

“Never mind that,” Rebecca said. “Think of it as a temporary alliance. We’ll work together for a few days. Me, your father, Stephen Paul Young from the Quorum. You, Sister Miriam, and David. The enemy has taken a fortified position in the heart of the wilderness, and it will take several trustworthy, ruthless people to root them out.”

Jacob raised an eyebrow in suspicion. “What do you mean, ruthless?”

Abraham said, “We’re going to kill Taylor Junior.”

“Just like that,” Jacob said, flatly. “No arrest, no trial. Just kill him.”

“Did Eliza give Gideon a trial before she dropped a stone on his head?” his father asked. “Did she try to arrest Caleb, or did she smash him with a hunk of concrete until he was dead?”

“That’s different. She was defending herself, she was under attack.”

“Wake up, Jacob. We’re under attack, too.”

Jacob put his hand to his eye as if scanning the desert. “Really? Where? I don’t see anyone.” He dropped his hand. “If you mean we’re under
spiritual
attack, then sure. But Dad, we’re always under spiritual attack. That’s what life is, a never-ending spiritual war.”

“Jacob,” Rebecca said. “This is the third time you’ve faced the Kimballs.”

“The fourth,” Abraham broke in, “because Zarahemla wouldn’t exist if Elder Kimball hadn’t left half the church scattered and vulnerable to false prophets.”

“That’s arguable,” Jacob said.

“Nevertheless,” Rebecca said. “Each time, people died. They’ll die this time if we don’t act. You don’t have to believe that Taylor Junior is the Antichrist or has any special powers. He is your enemy and your father’s, he has sworn he will marry your sister Eliza, he is gathering followers, and he intends to attack and conquer Blister Creek. This is a man who will kill people.”

“And since people will die anyway,” Abraham said, “the only possible solution is to take care of him before he causes harm.
The man’s soul is damned already. Do the saints have to suffer to prove it?”

It had a certain logic. If only Krantz hadn’t balked. Jacob would be happy to see the FBI go in with their night-vision goggles and their sniper rifles. With any luck, the FBI would take Taylor Junior without violence, but if he resisted, and they shot him, it would be a relief.

“We’ll hit them hard and fast,” Abraham continued. “Like clearing out a nest of rattlers. Kill the big ones and scatter the rest.”

“Wait, so you’re planning to kill other people, too?” Jacob asked.

“Elder Kimball is beyond redemption, and he’s the father of all these false prophets: Gideon, Caleb, and now Taylor Junior. Stanley Clawson is a child abuser. You X-rayed his kid—you told me yourself.”

“I didn’t expect you to beat him and run him out of town,” Jacob said.

“Didn’t you?” his father asked. “I find myself wondering about that.”

“Stanley is a sad, twisted man,” Rebecca said. “Maybe he deserves to die, maybe not. But what about Aaron Young? He helped murder Enoch in the temple.”

“Yes,” Abraham said. “Aaron Young, too.”

“So you’ll kill four men,” Jacob said. “Elder Kimball, Taylor Junior, Stanley Clawson, and Aaron Young.”

Abraham nodded. “For a start. There are some evil men in that group. Eric Froud—I’m convinced he was with Gideon and Israel when they murdered Enoch. Then there’s Elmo Griggs, Phillip Cobb. Maybe a couple more.”

Maybe a couple more? Good Lord, where would it end?

Jacob rose to his feet. “I’ve heard enough. No, I won’t be a part of this. I’m a doctor. My job is to heal people, not kill them. You two can carry on without me. I’m going inside to wash up. My wife is on her way, and this whole conversation has left me feeling dirtier than ever.”

“Fine, you’re a doctor,” Abraham said as Jacob turned to go. “But you don’t heal cancer, you destroy it. That’s what this is, a malignancy. We cut out one tumor when Eliza killed Gideon, but it has metastasized. First Caleb, now this. The big threat, this is it.”

“Your father and I don’t agree about a lot of things,” Rebecca said, “but we’re in harmony about this.”

Jacob turned back with a frown. He was opening his mouth to ask how, exactly, she was connected to his father and the Church of the Anointing, and again about why she’d pretended to be Allison Caliari to lure Eliza into Caleb Kimball’s cult, when a screech of tires interrupted his thoughts.

A green Taurus tore down the road from the direction of town. It was still accelerating as it flew past the house. It raced to the end of the street, then screeched again as it took a sharp right, heading toward the highway leading into the Ghost Cliffs.

Abraham frowned, rose to his feet, and stepped down from the porch to watch the car disappear.

Jacob followed his father down the stairs. “Who was that?”

“That was Stanley Clawson’s car. What’s he doing back?”

Jacob hadn’t gotten a clear view of the car, but it had been enough. “That wasn’t Stanley behind the wheel.”

Eliza couldn’t shake the truck as they emerged from the Ghost Cliffs.

The highway bisected a sagebrush- and rock-strewn foothill. They were still high enough to see the entire valley spread before them. The red gash of Witch’s Warts stretched from the cliffs to the center of the valley. She could see the white spire of the temple, the cottonwood trees that lined the grid-like pattern of streets downtown, and the dirt roads that twisted out from the center like arms of an octopus to reach the ranches and farms on the outskirts of town. If they could reach the center of town, she’d have one turn and then she’d be at her father’s house. They wouldn’t dare follow her there.