It astounded her that no one seemed to reevaluate their beliefs in the face of reality, as she had after her divorce. For as long as she could remember, Tucker and Vonda had cited the immortality of the last prophet, Rulon Jeffs, as proof that theirs was the one true faith. Jeffs had claimed not only that he would he never die, but he would live to see the return of Christ. He had picked various dates for the lifting up, none of which came to pass. Undeterred, he gathered his flock in a field in the year 2000 to await the parting of the clouds. When Jesus stood them up yet again, Jeffs blamed lack of faith, the usual explanation for prophecies that failed to transpire. He died two years later, not immortal after all.
Chastity could not understand how anyone could still believe the various FLDS prophets were the mouthpieces of God when none had turned out to be immortal and their most lofty prophecies were nonevents. Was the Heavenly Father really so quixotic and petty-minded that He would plan to end the world, inform His elect of the date and time, then change His mind on the day because a few individuals didn’t feel that burning in the bosom? It made no sense.
She had tried to have this discussion with Vonda, pointing out that Jeffs was just another emperor with no clothes. But her sister clung to the fairy tale that justified her painful existence. The prophet had to be right and her beliefs had to be true or that made her a gullible fool who had thrown her life away on a scam. Impossible. Chastity supposed ego had to play a role in such determined self-deceit. True believers would rather ignore reality than accept they were wrong. Some people called this “having the courage of their convictions.” Chastity thought it was cowardice. How any mother could sell her own children down the river for the sake of a senseless and evil mutation of religion was beyond her comprehension.
Hildale and Colorado City loomed ahead and Chastity slowed down to take in the depressing sight of the strangely barnlike half-built plywood houses and unpaved streets, and the dull sienna pall that hung over the town from the wood-burning stoves. High above this, plumes of black smoke rose from the asphalt plant that employed the last vestige of child labor in the country.
She would never change Vonda’s mind, she thought sadly. Obeying rules and not thinking for herself was easier than having to take full responsibility for her life. Cults counted on people like her, and certainly the FLDS would disintegrate if women began to question their indoctrination. That’s why they pulled girls out of school before eighth grade, if they ever went at all, and prevented their members having radio, TV, the Internet, and any books other than scripture and doctrine.
It was amazing that Adeline had still had a functioning mind at eleven, she reflected. She doubted that her niece would have run away had she not known there was a bigger world out there, one that offered so much more than the circumscribed existence FLDS girls endured. Adeline knew she would not be denied salvation simply because she chose a different path from her mother. She had discovered that her dreams and hopes were nourished by the so-called Babylon her church decried, and she’d discovered how it felt to be happy. She would never surrender that willingly.
It had taken Chastity herself a long time to accept that the sky would not fall if she stopped going to temple, to step back from the beliefs she took for granted and examine them for what they were—religion. No better or worse than any other, but no substitute for life in the real world with all its joys, risks, and uncertainties. She could never go back, and she knew it would be the same for Adeline.
Once in Colorado City, she headed for the supermarket. Of all the places in town, this was virtually a male-free zone and the one where she would be most likely to overhear useful gossip. A runaway wife was hot news, and if it had reached anyone in the town, the women shopping for groceries would be talking about it. Chastity straightened her headscarf and practiced the look of dopey innocence Vonda wore perpetually. Lowering her head, she followed a woman through the entrance doors, picked up a shopping basket, and wandered past bulk containers of beans and dried apple.
Signs around the walls advertised fresh milk and various nutritional aid programs for women and children. Chastity paused at a vast assortment of lubricant jellies and pregnancy testing kits and listened carefully to a quiet conversation between two other women. As they spoke and herded their children, she lifted tubes of cream and read the ingredients as if engrossed.
“…I haven’t heard anything since yesterday,” one of the woman said.
“They’ll find her. Stupid girl.”
Chastity did not allow her head to pop up. Instead she dropped a pregnancy test into her basket, moved a pace closer to the women, and said in the most timorous tone she could muster, “My cousin says she ran off with a boy.”
The women stared at her for a moment and the older of the two said, “I haven’t seen you at a meeting.”
Chastity smiled guilelessly. “I came down from Bountiful with my husband only a few weeks ago, just before the prophet cancelled Sunday meetings.”
Their faces lifted. The younger one said, “Welcome. Will you be staying?”
“With the prophet’s permission.”
“Who are you visiting with?”
“Tucker Fleming,” Chastity lied. “His second wife is my double-cousin.” Lowering her voice to a fretful whisper, she added, “It’s difficult there right now…with the trouble. That girl’s embarrassed the whole family.”
This earnest disclosure was accorded sage nods. Eyes glinting, the older woman said, “My husband is going this morning to join the search.”
“I’m on my way over there now with some extra food.” Chastity heaved a sigh. “I’ll have to go back and ask my cousin for directions again. I don’t know this area.”
“Oh, Gathering for Zion is easy to find,” the older woman said. “Once you get through Rapture, there’s a right turn onto a one-lane road. The ranch is about two miles along. You can’t miss it. Just look for the sign.”
Chastity smiled. “Thank you. I’m sure I’ll see you both when meetings begin again.”
She headed for the counter where a notice at the register instructed shoppers to have their welfare cards ready. She paid in cash and brushed past a group of men gathered around a pickup truck not far from where she’d parked. Acting like she was fumbling around for her keys, she stopped a few feet away and tuned in to the raised voices.
“Only way past the roadblocks is on foot through the canyon,” one man said. “The area is swarming with the servants of Lucifer.”
“The day is upon us,” cried another.
“What does Uncle Elias say?” asked a young man carrying a shotgun.
“The prophet has spoken with God,” a man with a bushy salt and pepper beard answered. “We are commanded to organize. Your wives and children must remain in the home. Assemble every able-bodied man. This is the moment we have been awaiting. We will seize back the kingdom of God and avenge the blood of the prophets.”
No wonder laughter was forbidden for FLDS women, Chastity thought. If she had to listen to baloney like that all the time, she’d crack up. Head lowered, she moved past the men and got into her minivan. When she pulled away from the curb, she let her tires spin long enough to throw a cloud of red dust over the zealots.
*
Adeline buried herself in the cool sand in the shadow created by a north facing overhang in the canyon wall. It was slightly damp there, the rock wall at least thirty degrees cooler than the air. When you were stuck in a dangerous environment, the thing to do was watch how wildlife behaved. Small mammals didn’t try to move, they sought shadows, content to wait out the extreme heat in the middle of the day. To survive, Adeline knew she would have to do the same thing.
She spat the pebble she’d been sucking and took a small sip of water, then she gazed across the shimmering red desert to the Gathering for Zion Ranch and wished she’d stolen binoculars while she was in the house. There was no sign of a search party and she was beginning to think she’d made a terrible mistake leaving Daniel alone in the cave. She’d been traveling west, toward the area where they’d last seen the searchers, convinced they would not return to ground already covered.
While she’d been hiking that morning, she’d seen helicopters land near the compound and she kept wondering when the police would start fanning out. She was so hungry and thirsty she almost wanted them to find her. Naoma could whip her all she wanted; she would escape again. She stared at the pale buildings glittering in the distance, still puzzled over the gunfire.
What if the police weren’t there because of her and Daniel? What if something else was going on? They would have phones. Maybe she could steal one while they weren’t looking. Adeline checked the level in her water bottle. She could make it to the ranch in about two hours if she started now. And if everyone was cooped up indoors because the police were parked outside, no one would notice her, and even if they did, she looked like a boy now.
The more she thought about it, the more it seemed like a good idea. Adeline was sure she didn’t have sunstroke or such bad dehydration her mind was affected and she was making a stupid decision. She felt okay. Taking her time, she wriggled back out of her damp sanctuary and scrambled to her feet. She was going to do it. She would find a phone, call Aunt Chastity, and she and Daniel would be saved.
“Holy cow!” Gossett swung around as a sleek red motorcycle emerged from the scrub northwest of their position. Ignoring the swarm of agents in assault gear who converged on it, the driver bounced up the steep slope and halted behind the police vehicles.
“Hold your fire,” Farrell commanded, as if anyone was doing more than stare in shock at the sight of a plyg woman, in
Little House on the Prairie
drag, climbing off a trail bike. She kicked out the side stand, propping the bike like she did it in her sleep.
“It’s one of
them
,” Gossett said as the young woman removed her helmet, hitched up her skirt, and strode purposefully past her stupefied audience, making a beeline for Farrell.
“Perhaps they’ve sent an emissary,” Farrell murmured.
Somehow Jude couldn’t see the patriarchs of Rapture dispatching a young woman to negotiate on their behalf, but she was willing to keep an open mind. The shooting had slowed down to the occasional stray bullet; maybe they were out of ammo and wanted to discuss surrender terms. She took a mental snapshot of the rider: burnished copper hair, a small oval face and a confident white smile. Even her unflattering dress could not fully disguise a slender, athletic body. How depressing, Jude thought, she was probably married to her own grandfather.
Surprisingly, the woman made direct eye contact with Farrell. “Are you in charge here?” she demanded.
He nodded curtly. “SAC Trent Farrell of the FBI, Phoenix. How may I be of help, ma’am?”
Piercing dark eyes swept their small group. “I’m Chastity Young. I’m here about my niece, Adeline Fleming. Are you conducting the search?”
The SAC cast a silent query in Jude’s direction, and she reminded him, “The two children thought to have escaped on Sunday.”
“I’ve come to take her home,” Chastity Young asserted.
Startling the troops even more, she began to undress, stripping down to a white T-shirt and khaki hiking shorts. She kicked her discarded dress, petticoats, socks and sandals into a small pile, and said, “Could you add these to your trash, please.”
Gossett glanced sideways at Jude and raised his eyebrows.
“What can you tell us about the circumstances of your niece’s disappearance?” Jude asked when it seemed Farrell was lost for words.
“Only that she was living with me in Salt Lake City until a week ago.” Chastity took a pair of hiking boots from her backpack. “Then her parents came and took her. They said she was going to be married. She’s fourteen.”
Jude said, “We met her older sister yesterday. Summer.”
“You met her here?” Chastity sat down and set about methodically getting into her boots.
“She’s one of Mr. Epperson’s wives.”
Chastity shook her head, clearly shocked. “I had no idea.”
“She thinks your niece may be hiding in those hills.” Jude indicated the towering red and black rock formations about ten miles northeast of the ranch.