The Righteous (12 page)

“High level? We were right. It wasn’t the Mexicans. I have a few leads, but nothing concrete yet.”

No need to alarm his father about the attack in Enoch’s apartment. Further, he didn’t want to overplay the involvement of the Kimball clan until he was certain which of them were involved.

Instead, he talked about how Fernie and her children were doing, knowing that his father would appreciate details about his adopted daughter and his grandchildren. He talked about the flood; father hadn’t heard. He was friends with Jameson Young and wondered if he should send help. Jacob assured him there were more than enough resources in Blister Creek to clean up the mess.

Jacob stifled several yawns. “I’m sorry, but I’m really tired. Haven’t slept much in the last couple of days and I need a few more hours. Is there anything else?”

“You know there is,” Father said. “How is this other business coming?”

“You mean Eliza? My hands are full with the murder investigation, Dad. I don’t have time to interview potential husbands.”

“Elder Johnson calls almost every day. He’s growing insistent.”

“Dad, Elder Johnson is seventy-four years old. He had a triple bypass four years ago and a broken hip last year. Surely we can do better.”

“He’s an Elder of Israel and close friend of the prophet. Short of marrying Brother Joseph himself, there are few better matches.”

“Politically speaking, sure. But what’s his life expectancy? A year? Two? How many children would Eliza give him anyway?”

“So she’d be free to marry again, maybe this time someone of her own choosing.”

Jacob considered. A couple of years of unpleasant marriage for the opportunity to arrange her own marriage at a later date. A woman had much greater leeway after her first husband died. She’d already been sealed eternally in the temple to another man, as would be any children born to her by a second husband; it lowered her value.

Father interrupted Jacob’s thoughts. “So you’re not crazy about Elder Johnson. That’s fine. You have two other men to consider. Has Eliza met them yet?”

“She met Taylor Junior.”

“And?”

“Not impressed. Neither was I.” An understatement.

“I’ve never cared for the Kimball boys myself,” Father said. “Bright enough, but morally weak. I certainly don’t relish marrying my daughter to one of them. Didn’t even care to see Fernie marry Elder Kimball. But this might be the best choice.”

Jacob said, “Why the rush? She’s just not ready. If we push her, she might resent it for the rest of her life. And Eliza’s still got some growing to do. Maybe college…” “College? It’s not a woman’s duty to seek self-actualization, Jacob. Meanwhile, so long as your sister stays unmarried, it’s your own growth that remains stunted.”

“Meaning, no wife for me.”

“Exactly. How can I ask the prophet to sanction taking some other man’s daughter without offering my own in return?”

“Frankly, it’s a tradeoff I’m willing to accept while we wait until she’s ready. It won’t be forever. Maybe a few years. When Eliza’s older. Just not now.”

A pause. “Are you a homosexual, Jacob?” his father asked.

Jacob couldn’t say that he was surprised by the question, even if the timing was abrupt. His mother had asked a similar question when he was a teenager and had been more interested in books than girls.
You do like girls, don’t you Jacob?

“No, Father, I’m not a homosexual.”

“Because, you know, I’d still love you. Having homosexual feelings is not a sin, only acting on them. We can suppress our desires, even the unnatural ones, in service of the Lord. I know that some are born with this burden, through no choice of their own.”

“I’m not gay,” he repeated. It must have taken a terrific effort for his father to acknowledge that some men were born homosexual. Most took a harder edge. Few things inspired greater loathing than the sodomite.

“Then what is it?” Father’s voice sterner, now. “Men fight for that first wife. You know better than anyone that you won’t be a full member of Zion until you take a wife. Every minute you stay single you put yourself at risk. Others, more aggressive, will look to supplant you.”
“Yes, I am fully aware of the ramifications of my ongoing bachelorhood. And we’ve had this conversation before, haven’t we? How many times? Ten, twenty?”

“Then what is it?” Abraham Christianson asked. “Why don’t you take what’s offered? It’s yours. Reach out and grab it.”

Jacob didn’t have an answer. Nothing his father would accept. “I can’t, Dad. Not right now. I need to stay focused on this murder. If I don’t, there will be more deaths.”

“You really believe that?”

“I don’t just believe it, I know it. Now, can we give this a rest? Until Eliza and I return from Blister Creek, at least?”

A sigh from the other end. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Jacob. The pressure on both you and Eliza is growing too great to resist. But it’s not like you don’t have options. There are three acceptable choices. All three men have at least one daughter on the table.”

On the table? The talk of trading girls like so much livestock was repellent. “Okay, let’s get this out in the open. Pros and cons.”

“Good, now you’re sounding reasonable,” Father said. “First, Taylor Junior. I know what you think about the man. But Elder Kimball has three daughters between the ages of fifteen and seventeen and two more who will turn fifteen within the next few months. They are all good girls, and some are quite pretty.”

True enough. But Taylor Junior? Jacob would sooner smuggle his sister to those anti-polygamy crusaders in Salt Lake than condemn her to that marriage.

“Next is Elder Johnson. That would be my choice. He’s old enough to be my own father, it’s true, but he’s a good man. His daughter Dorothea is sixteen and bright. Rather homely, it’s true, but you know what they say about first wives. You’ll have others. You can look for pretty down the road.”

Jacob had no comment. “And finally, Stephen Paul Young.”

“Yes. He’s from the William Young family. He’s thirty-five and my half first cousin, once removed. I’m not crazy about the genetics of the matter. There’s too much cousin marriage in the church as it is. You can’t ignore the dysgenic effects of too much intra-familial marriage.”

Jacob tried to picture Stephen Paul Young and could only come up with tall. “Don’t know the guy.”

“Good family. Loyal to the church. On the Quorum, his father and I share certain…understandings. Stephen Paul is a rancher with a side business of fresh vegetables. Shares a co-op with Taylor Kimball’s family.”

Jacob knew the business. It moved a lot of vegetables and beef and made more than enough to support Elder Kimball’s family comfortably. But being in business with the Kimballs wasn’t an endorsement as far as Jacob was concerned.

“How many wives did you say?” Jacob asked, trying to remember their conversation in Harmony. “Two?”

“Yes, Eliza would make three. Both William and his brother Jameson are pushing Stephen Paul for a spot on the Quorum of the Twelve. You might end up serving together on the Quorum some day. A brother-in-law would be a nice ally.”

“That doesn’t enter into the equation.”

“Absolutely, it does,” Father said. “Someday you’ll be the leader of the family. You’d better start thinking about how to advance it.”

“Yes, but what’s he like? A good man?”

“I don’t know. Haven’t heard any complaints, but our paths haven’t crossed very often. Stephen Paul has two unmarried sisters, but I don’t know much about them, either. Go, meet the man. Meet his sisters.”

Jacob considered. “Okay, I’ll look. In fact, I’ll take Liz,” Jacob said. “I assume that’s fine.”

“Of course. But don’t get her all riled up. You want to avoid emotions in these matters. And it’s not Eliza’s choice, ultimately.”

And somehow Jacob was expected to make a better decision, knowing he could choose whichever girl most suited him as his prize?

“Can I go now?”

“Yes, Jacob. Get some sleep. Find the murderers. But don’t procrastinate this other matter. I’ll call you in a day or two and I want your decision. I’ve got business in Salt Lake early next week. It would be a good time to come to Blister Creek for a wedding if you decide against Elder Johnson. Come to think of it, we’d have two weddings, wouldn’t we? Today is what? Tuesday? That gives you a week.”

And with that Abraham Christianson hung up. Jacob dropped the phone on the nightstand, rubbed his eyes and fell back on the bed with a groan. A week? Both he and his sister would be married next week?

#

Eliza stood on the porch of the trailer, her hand frozen in knocking position. The knock still hung in the air and she wished desperately to take it back. Movement behind the door, the lock turning, then the knob.

Eduardo stood, blinking at her in surprise. He had changed out of his wet clothes already and she was conscious of her own bedraggled appearance. Worse, her dress clung to her skin and without looking down she knew that it revealed far more of her body than she’d intended.

“Well, hello,” he said at last. “I didn’t expect you. Come in.”

“I can’t come inside,” was what she meant to say, but it came out as, “I can’t…stay very long.”

“Of course, not.”

The inside of the trailer was spartan, but clean. A few pieces of furniture, a kitchen on the left and a hallway to bedrooms on the other side of the living room. Eduardo indicated that she take a seat on the couch, then turned off the television. He went to the bathroom to get her a couple of towels.

It was long enough to reflect on what the hell she was doing. She had to get out of here. At once. And yet she still sat on the couch when he returned. Eliza used the first towel to dry her hair, then wrapped it around her shoulders. It provided cover to her breasts. She sat on the second towel.

Eduardo sat next to her. “I’m sorry about lying to you earlier.”

“You mean about the English? Why? I mean, what’s the harm in speaking English?”

“Maybe nothing.” He shook his head. “I’ve had bad experiences with gringos. English just complicates things. Better to stay quiet and stupid.”

It didn’t ring true. Surely there was more to it than that.

“Anyway,” he said. “How old are you?”

“Eighteen,” she lied. “You?”

“Twenty-two. What was up with that jerk? That was Elder Kimball’s son, wasn’t it?”

“Taylor Junior, yeah. He thinks he’s going to marry me. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Eduardo said, “So we were hanging drywall for this guy and his wife was only sixteen. Pregnant already. Manuel said they all marry young around here. You’re lucky, I guess.”

“I don’t feel lucky.” She sighed. “Feels like my time is running out. My father’s putting a lot of pressure on me. It might only be a few weeks, in fact.”

“Really? Some man in Blister Creek?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. There’s this old guy in Alberta, too. The other two are here. One of them is Taylor Junior, but like I said, I’m not interested. My brother is going to choose from the other two.”

“And that’s how women get married in your church? Someone chooses for you? How bizarre.”

“No more bizarre,” she said, “than choosing a husband based on lust, like gentiles do. I mean, people outside the church. Half the people don’t even get married anymore. Children are born without even knowing who the father is. How is that a better system?”

He held up his hands. “You don’t have to lecture me. My family is Catholic. Very traditional. My mother would kill me if I got some girl pregnant.”

“Is your family in the United States?”

“My dad is. He’s been in Atlanta for about twenty years. Only sees my mother for a few weeks a year, but always sends money. My mother and the rest of my family live in Tepíc, Nayarit. North of Guadalajara. It’s a long trip from the border. I’ve done it about twenty times.”

None of that meant anything to her. “And that’s how you learned English? Working with your father?”

“Yes, I spent summers up here from the time I was about six.”

“It must be great to speak two languages fluently.”

He shrugged. “Not so great that I’m not still working with illegals for eight or ten bucks an hour. If there was any work in Mexico, I’d go home.”

“You don’t like the U.S?”

He hesitated. “It’s not my country,” he said at last. “I’m a foreigner. People say things. Store owners check the stock when I leave.” He shook his head. “And the worst thing? I’m a foreigner in Mexico, too. Even though everybody has a cousin or a brother in the north, they don’t like us. I can’t blame them, sometimes. Guys come back from the States with flashy trucks, and waving big wads of dollars. They speak English to each other just to show off.”

“Then they can hardly be surprised if people find them annoying.”

“Sure, but most people aren’t like that. I prefer a low profile. But it doesn’t matter. The upshot is that I’m a Mexican in the United States and a
gringo oscuro
—a dark gringo—in Mexico. And I feel that way sometimes. Torn between two countries. Two cultures. Two languages. Maybe that’s why I choose to speak Spanish.”

“I’m a foreigner too. Canadian.”

“That’s different, though. Canada and the U.S. are pretty much the same thing.”

“First of all, they’re not. Second, I’m a lot more foreign than just coming from Canada. Look at me. Look at this place. It’s not Atlanta.”

“No, I guess not.”

“People drive through town sometimes to gawk. They found us on a map after having seen some television program about those crazy polygamists. And they come through and take pictures of the women or the temple. Look at all those wives. And a million kids each. As if we’re animals at the zoo.”

He laughed. “I have to admit I found this place pretty strange when I first came. But I haven’t seen any tourists.”

“We do a pretty good job of scaring them off. You know, the gentiles can’t get gas or buy groceries in town. We won’t sell to them. People won’t even talk to them. They say we’re standoffish. A cult. But we just want to be left alone to live our faith. Is that so bad?”

“I guess not, when you put it like that. But Eliza, what do
you
want? Do you want to be wife number five to one of these old guys?”