Rustled (2 page)

“Have you ever heard of the Reformed
Apostles of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints?” I started.

His face took
on the aspect of an angry god. “Those sons-of-bitches. Polygamists.”

His vehemence
startled me. Why was he so mad? I knew why
I
hated them, but most people
knew nothing about them, a splinter group who had refused to give up polygamy
when the main Mormon church did. Now small pockets of our sect and a couple or
three others that had also broken off from the Mormons, or LDS as they
preferred to be called, were dotted all over North America, but nowhere so
prevalent as in the rural areas of the western states surrounding Utah.

Even those who
knew of them just seemed to be amused by the group, or titillated by questions
about how the personal relationships in a polygamist colony worked; unless they
were aware of the ugly practice of forcing child brides.

Now, cautious
because of Russ’s unexpected reaction, I said, “Well, I ran away from Bethel
City, down on the Arizona strip. It’s still warm there.”

He was looking
at me as if fascinated. “You were able to run away?”

“Yep. Took the
Prophet’s car and ran like my ass was scalded, which it has been, several
times.”

Russ’s face
was a study in conflicting emotions. He didn’t know whether to curse,
commiserate, laugh at my matter of fact statement, or ask a question. I took
pity on him.

“Look I told
you, it’s a long story. I know I don’t sound like someone from a place like
that, and that’s because I’m not, not really. Three years ago, I was a wild
child. Out of control, Mom said. My mom left my dad over his conversion to the
Church, and I was pissed about my family breaking up, so I acted out. Mom
finally sent me to Dad to see if he could get me to straighten out.”

“Did I hear a
capital C on that Church?” Russ asked.

“Yeah, as far
as they’re concerned, it’s the only church, so we say THE Church.”

“So what
happened? You’ve been there three years? Did you straighten out?” The
speculation in his eyes disturbed me. What was he thinking, that he could take
advantage of me if I hadn’t straightened out? And, would I care? The last
thought shocked me, so I hastily went on.

“Yes and no.
They pretty much tried to beat the defiance out of me, but I just can’t seem to
behave.”

“Give me an
example.”

“Well, you’ve
heard my vocabulary. I lose my temper and start dropping F-bombs. Then the
Prophet disciplines me, which both pisses me off and turns me on, and
that
pisses me off, so it starts all over again.” I hadn’t meant to say that about
turning me on. But there it was, it was out there, disgusting as it was. Russ’s
expression was almost comical, on the one hand trying to appear as if he
weren’t interested in my revelation, but with an even more appraising look in
his eyes.

“So, when you
said you ran like your ass was scalded, and it has been, you meant…”

“That the
Prophet likes to discipline young women by spanking them, bare-assed, with his
hand or a little whip kind of thing.”

“And that
pisses you off
and
turns you on?” The look on his face was priceless. It
looked like the concept kind of turned him on, too.

“I shouldn’t
have said that.” My face was aflame. Now he would know. I was as much a pervert
as the men who ruled their Bethel City community with the illusion of religious
authority and a shared enjoyment of very young women.

“Can’t unsay
it now.” Amusement tinged the observation.

“A gentleman
would stop prying.” I folded my hands and tried to look prim and proper.

“Who said I
was a gentleman?” He had me there. I froze. Now that I had let slip my worst
shame, was he finally going to take advantage of me? I cursed my fuzzy brain
and my too-loose tongue, another of the faults that made me the scapegoat of
the community. I could never keep my own counsel. Ask me a question, and I’ll
give you the answer, no matter how personal or embarrassing it is. You’ve heard
of pathological liars? Well, I pathologically told the truth, even when it
would get me into trouble. And the uncomfortable truth I was beginning to
realize was that I didn’t think I’d mind if he did take advantage. What the
hell was wrong with me?

“So you ran
away because the Prophet spanked you, or was gonna spank you?”

“No, because
he was going to marry me to Elder Jensen.” Maybe if I just answered with as
little explanation as possible, he’d get bored and lose interest, and I’d be
safe.

“And you
didn’t want to marry him?”

“Hell, no!
He’s about eighty, for one thing, and he’s already got three wives. They
probably want me for a brood mare. I don’t think any of them has had a kid
since I got there. I wouldn’t touch his wrinkled old dick with a ten-foot
pole.” I shuddered, horrified at the very thought.

Stifling a
laugh, Russ said with a straight face, “I see. Well, I don’t blame you. Didn’t
your father stand up for you?”

A wave of
nausea washed over me as I remembered appealing to my dad. “He was all for it.
It would help his position in the Church, and maybe he’d get permission to take
a second wife. He’s got his eye on a girl five years younger than me.”

“How old are
you?”

“I’m twenty.”

“Your dad
wants to marry a fifteen-year-old?” Russ’s face twisted in disgust. I was
pretty sure that whatever else he was, Russ wasn’t a pervert.

“They marry
them off young in that town.”

“Where are the
authorities?” His sharp question made me wonder if he was thinking of riding
down there and straightening the perverts out himself. He was big enough to
make some trouble, but why would he care?

“Far away, in
bigger towns. They raid us sometimes, but the town’s got one road in and one
road out and at least three competing sects of polygamists. The lookouts get
word to the Prophet and he and the young wives disappear until they know who’s
being raided.”

Russ was
silent for a few minutes, I guess processing what I had told him so far. “So
why aren’t you already married?”

“Told you, I
was not quite seventeen and I was acting out when I got there. Mom caught me in
bed with a boyfriend, and freaked out, but I don’t know if she told Dad the
whole story. Anyway, nobody wanted me until I started to settle down a little.”

“So, if you
didn’t want to marry, why did you settle down?”

“The Prophet
was liking those spankings just a little too much, if you know what I mean. And
it made me sick that I could feel them, um, well, okay, I was liking them a
little too much, too. Though, I didn’t want to have sex with him, ew. Anyway, I
decided to be good so he wouldn’t have an excuse. But then my boyfriend’s
asshole little brother ratted us out and everything changed.”

“Oh, you had a
boyfriend. Why didn’t you marry him, instead?” Russ seemed to actually care
about the answer.

“Seriously,
why do you care about all of this? I’ve said too much already.” I had told him
more in half an hour than I’d ever confided to anyone. Wondering if hypothermia
caused some kind of need to brain dump, I clamped my mouth shut, determined to
give up no more of my privacy.

“I want to
know what I’m up against, now that I’ve rescued you. Are there going to be
armed gangs of Reformed Apostles looking for that SUV? Tell me what happened.”
His look was so menacing that I gave up trying to hold back.

“Okay. First,
they ran Johnny out of town. I heard from his older sister that he ended up on
the street in St. George. The patriarchs don’t like the young men getting the
prime women, see?” I could tell from the look on his face that he did see, and
that he was holding back a powerful emotion of some sort. Anger? It looked like
anger, but I couldn’t understand why he would be that angry over some
theoretical women or girls or a boy that he didn’t even know.

“Then what?”

In for a
penny, in for a pound. I might as well tell him the rest of the story. “Then I
got the worst beating of my life. That was a couple of months ago. Yesterday,
the Prophet told me they came up with this idea of marrying me to Elder Jensen.
I just lost it, ran out of the room, jumped in the Prophet’s car and
skedaddled. Lucky he had the only fancy SUV in town, and the keys were in it.
The Prophet never dreamed someone would have the audacity to steal from him.” I
held my head higher, proud of my accomplishment. Russ examined my face, then
brushed my hair behind my ear.

“Go on. Didn’t
they chase you?”

“Yeah, but I
outran ‘em. I went south and east on 389, and made like I was headed for Page
and then I guess I’d have turned south for Flagstaff. But I think they were too
far behind me to see me take 89 north to Kanab. I just kept going right up 89
and then 6 and 50 until I hit Salt Lake. Then I turned east. They’ll never look
for me on this road; even if they knew I’d gone north instead of south, they’d
figure I was headed east on I70 to get to St. Louis and my mother if I didn’t
go to Flag.”

“So where
were
you going?” Damn, would the man never run out of questions?

“St. Louis.
Just not by the route they’d expect.”

“What will you
do when you get there?”

“Ask for
police protection, I suppose. I’m sure the Prophet is wanted for child abuse or
something. He never leaves town where he’s protected. Bet with what I know, I
could get Federal help.” It was a thought I’d had for a while, but only now had
a hope of putting it in motion.

“Maybe so,”
Russ said. He held his hand out for my empty bowl, then got up and washed both
of them from a basin that he filled from the barrel behind the stove. Water,
good to know. I gave a nervous glance to the oil lamp above my head. Why the
hell would Russ hang a fire hazard right above the bed?

He came back
to the bed and sat beside me again, stretching long jean-clad legs out in front
of him. “So that’s your Prophet’s car that you wrecked?”

“Don’t call
him
my
Prophet. I don’t believe in that crap. But yeah, it’s his car.”

“Do you know
if it’s registered?”

“I guess so.
Yeah, it has a license plate.”

“Then it won’t
be long before they’re looking for you on this road,” he stated
matter-of-factly.

“Oh, shit!” My
stomach would have hit my knees if I’d been standing. As it was, it bottomed
out not too far from where it started. I needed to get out of here, get as far
away as possible before that SUV was discovered and the Prophet notified where
his car had been found. Russ read my mind, or maybe my face.

“We’re not
going anywhere until this blizzard blows over, Kitten. But neither is anyone
else. You’re safe for now.”

There it was
again. He never did tell me why he called me Kitten. It was time to get a
straight answer. “Why the fuck do you keep calling me Kitten?” I demanded,
flashing my most dangerous green stare at him.

“Because I
don’t know your name, mostly,” he drawled. That brought me up short. Well, why
didn’t he say so?

“It’s
Charity.”

I didn’t know
why he thought that was so funny. He just about rolled off the bed, laughing at
my fucking name. I stared at him. “What the hell is so funny?”

“Charity,” he
gasped, “that’s rich.”

“What the hell
do you mean?” Being laughed at and not knowing why made me feel small and
young. I was ready to punch him.

A fresh round
of belly laughs ensued. It was quite a few minutes before he gained enough
control to talk. “’Cause you don’t got any, babe. You fought me like a wildcat
while I was trying to take your cold, wet clothes off of you, even though you
didn’t seem to be conscious ‘cause you wouldn’t respond to my questions. And,
you’ve been spittin’ and scratchin’ like a little wild cat since you woke up. I
think Kitten suits you better.”

For a minute,
I glared at him, my back up exactly like the little wild cat he had compared me
to. Then I was laughing too. Was I hysterical? I didn’t know. This was such a
peculiar situation that I wasn’t sure how to act, or what would be appropriate.
Every time he looked at me, Russ broke out into helpless laughter, which set me
off. If someone had come in, they would have dragged us both to the loony bin,
I swear. Gradually, we both trailed off into short chuckles now and then, and
eventually stopped, out of breath and wondering what had hit us.

“So, what do
we do?” I asked at last.

“You mean about
the guys that’re chasin’ you?”

“Them, or the
blizzard, or being stuck here together. Whatever.”

“Sorry,
Kitten, I don’t see what we can do about any of it. Going out in that is
suicide. At least nobody will be looking for you here until the storm breaks.
It could take weeks to find the SUV down in that ditch.”

“How did
you
find me, then?”

Russ thought
for a minute before speaking. “Actually, I saw you go in. But I had to go and
get a vehicle with a winch. I tried to get your door open, but it was just the
wrong angle.”