by Webb, Betty
Davis wove between the chairs, greeting each man personally, slapping him on the back, sharing brief comments. He didn’t ignore the women, either. Each woman, even the oldest, homeliest, and most pregnant received that seductive two-handed greeting he’d given me. What a politician!
Saul nudged me. “Lena, didn’t you hear me?”
“Sorry. What were you saying?” I watched Prophet Davis bend over a plain, dark-haired girl who looked much too young to be pregnant. When he patted her on her monstrous belly she looked up at him with adoration.
“I’m trying to tell you about Solomon’s widows.” Saul kept his voice low as the seats around us began to fill.
“Wait a minute. That girl Davis is talking to, she looks too young to be pregnant. What is she, all of fourteen?”
“That’s Rosalinda and she looks younger than she is. She’s sixteen. You’ve already had the non-pleasure of meeting her husband, Earl Graff. But please quit ogling our handsome prophet and listen to me. All of Solomon’s widows are here, and I want you to pay real close attention to them. People say they weren’t all that crazy about Solomon while he was alive, but they look plenty miserable now.” He waved toward a group of silent women ranging from young teens to elderly grandmothers, sitting together in the middle rows. Like the women I’d seen earlier on the portch, their teeth were marred by untreated cavities and cheap bridgework.
“What do you mean?” I stopped watching Davis’s meet-and-greet routine. Earl Graff’s head suddenly turned toward us and I realized I’d spoken too loudly. I lowered my voice again. “Why are Solomon’s widows so unhappy?” Toothaches?
“Because the Circle of Elders plans to divvy them and their kids up between other men,” he whispered. “Martha Royal, his first wife, was the first to get a new husband, and from the way that’s turned out, it’s made the others plenty nervous. Vern Leonard, that’s Martha’s proud groom, is nobody’s idea of a hottie.”
I struggled to keep my voice down. “You mean the Circle of Elders is just giving the widows away like hand-me-down clothing?”
“It’s usually about favors, not money. The Circle was probably in debt to Vern for something. Or maybe one of the Circle was pissed at Martha and figured this was a great way to get even.”
“That’s slavery!” My outrage made it difficult to keep my voice down.
Saul put his finger to his lips. “Careful.”
I bit my lip, and to get my mind off the terrified widows, scanned the crowd. Approximately one hundred and fifty people had now filed into the room and taken their seats, and as I studied them, I noticed something odd. Almost all were blonds. In fact, so many blue-eyed blonds populated the room that it could have passed for an Aryan Brotherhood meeting. Then I remembered something I’d learned at ASU while studying the history of the Southwest. After the Mormons started their missionary work in other countries, they made many converts in Scandinavia. Many of those converts moved to Salt Lake city, which at this point was probably the blondest city in the U.S. In Purity, that tendency to blondness had magnified. No wonder Prophet Davis had looked upon me with such approval. Except for my green eyes, I fit right in.
While studying this profusion of blonds, I noticed Martha Royal sitting next to her new husband, his hand resting on her knee. If she leaned any farther away from him she’d topple off her chair.
Most of the other women in the room looked little happier than Martha but few displayed her utter disgust. Seeing this many women together, though, did make me finally put my finger on something that had nudged at me since I’d arrived in the compound. The women’s granny dresses were sewn with various levels of competence. Some hems dangled and some showed the tracks of let-out seams. While clean, the fabrics were worn thin, with their former patterns faded into ghosts with repeated washings. Compared to these women, I was a virtual fashion statement.
“You’d think they’d at least dress up for the meeting,” I commented.
Saul took a quick look around. “They are dressed up. Remember, most of these women are on welfare.”
I bit my lip again to keep from saying more. One group of women, though, looked far from destitute. They stood in a little circle, chatting happily while waiting for the meeting to start. Their granny dresses glowed with bright colors and new fabric. While many of the other women were pale to the point of anemia, these women’s faces radiated good health, and their teeth were as perfect as Davis’. As a group, they were the prettiest blonds in the room.
Saul saw me watching them. “Those are Prophet Davis’s wives. Not bad, huh? He does have an eye for the ladies.”
Ah, the old rock star perk. I recognized one woman from earlier in the day. About twenty, she was a younger, even more beautiful version of Martha Royal. Martha’s daughter, perhaps? She wore a bright blue-and-yellow calico that set off her pale hair and azure eyes.
Saul saw me watching her. “That’s Sissy Royal, Davis’s sixth wife. He married her just after she turned sixteen, but she hasn’t given him any babies yet.”
I remembered that the more children a woman bore, the higher her family status appeared to be. Sissy, while beautiful, wore the strained expression of a woman who knows she’s not measuring up.
“How many children does Davis have?”
Saul shrugged. “Around thirty, I think. Maybe more. Each of his other wives pops a baby out a year, and one of them even has two sets of twins. But I’ve got to say this for ol’ Davis, his wives look a lot happier than the rest of the women around here. Even Ruby wanted a couple of her daughters to marry him, course that was mainly so they wouldn’t have to marry guys living in some of the other compounds.”
“What happened?”
He shook his head. “They weren’t pretty enough for him. They got shipped off to some old guy in Sunset, about sixty miles away, and Ruby’s hated Davis ever since.” He jerked his head toward the lectern, where Prophet Davis, having finished the task of greeting everyone, rapped a small gavel on the lectern.
“Friends, before we begin today’s meeting, let us pray,” he said, sounding more like a televangelist than ever.
It was all I could do not to groan but I stood obediently with the rest of the group. The prayer was long, calling for God’s help bringing strength and endurance to the men, obedience and humility to the women. I’d heard it all before, which was why I’d shied away from church all my life, but toward the end, Prophet Davis interjected some intriguing new material.
“As it says in Prophet Solomon’s Gospel, ‘For behold I reveal unto you a new covenant and unless ye adhere to this covenant, ye will never see Highest Heaven,’” Davis’s voice rang out. “Our forefather Abraham received numerous concubines and they bore him many children, and therefore Abraham was seated by the Lord on the highest throne of Highest Heaven. Oh, children of Purity, that is our sacred commandment, to follow in Abraham’s footsteps.”
As everyone said “Amen,” and sat down, I added a silent “Bullshit.”
The self-serving prayer out of the way, Davis got down to business.
“First, I want to issue one more call for the man who shot at me this morning to admit his mistake. I am ready to confer forgiveness upon the sinner.”
In the long pause that followed, I could hear people breathing. The silence must have continued for at least five minutes, but no one ever confessed.
“All right then,” Davis said. “Here’s what I’m going to do about it. The guns have all been returned to the armory, correct?” He looked over at the Circle of Elders, where each of those worthies nodded in unison.
“Brothers, bring your keys to me.”
“What? What do you mean?” Earl Graff said. “The Circle of Elders has cared for the guns for a hundred years!”
“Not anymore.” Davis’s voice was grim. “Bring those keys here now, Brother Graff. From now on, when anyone wants to go hunting, he’ll have to come to me and I will personally take him over to the armory and hand him a
rifle. I don’t like being shot at twice in one week.”
Earl sputtered, as did the other members of the Circle, but in the end, they handed the keys over to Davis.
“The armory? Where’s the armory?” I whispered to Saul.
“It’s on the second floor of the clinic, where the Circle of Elders holds its monthly meeting. Like everything else around here, the guns are communally owned, but it sure looks like Davis is going to make it a lot less communal.”
Davis spoke again, his voice carrying beautifully, even in this large room. “As you all know, brothers and sisters, things have been pretty tense around Zion City since Prophet Solomon’s murder. The anti-polygamy media is trying to stir up a witch hunt again, and they’re making our friends in government nervous. When you take those runs into town to sign those welfare and SSI forms, keep your wives and children as much out of sight as possible.”
Noah Heaton, the dwarfish dog-shooter I’d met before the meeting, stood up. “Who cares what the Outside thinks? I’m more interested in what’s going on right here in Purity. Maybe if things were a little fairer around here we wouldn’t have so many problems. I mean, why should some men have ten wives while some of us still have none?”
Davis gave him a smile tainted with a trace of condescension. “Your point is well taken, Brother Noah, but this isn’t really the time for such a discussion.”
Noah refused to drop his complaint. “I want a wife! But the Circle of Elders refuses to give me one!”
Some of the women in the room giggled, but they fell silent when their husbands glowered at them.
Davis sounded pained. “You were offered one of Prophet Solomon’s widows. It isn’t the Circle’s fault you refused her.”
“But she, she…” His mongrel-thin face contorted in frustration. “She’s too old to have any more children, so what good is she?”
Angry mutterings greeted this statement and one of the men near Noah shoved him back into his seat. Perhaps the men shared Noah’s opinions about women’s worth, but they still didn’t like hearing them stated in such a bald fashion.
Davis’s smile grew broader as he turned away from Noah and spoke to the rest of the group. “Actually, Brother Noah’s comments give me an opportunity to bring up something else that’s worried me.
“As we’ve seen with the firearms problem, the Circle of Elders has become slack,” he said. “Like it or not, we live in the twentieth century, and by continuing to sanction marriages with girls as young as thirteen, these godly but sometimes improvident men have exposed us to even more media attention. Why, just look at the mess my father visited upon us! Brothers and sisters, you all know that in 2001 the Utah state legislature raised the marriageable age to sixteen. I’m informing you that from now on, Purity will operate within those parameters, too. Regardless of what the Circle of Elders had done in the past, I will no longer sanction any marriage when the young lady involved is a day under sixteen.”
A chorus of male groans rose in the room. Davis had dealt a blow at the very heart of polygamy: child marriage.
He wasn’t finished. “There’s another problem we need to discuss. Of late, the Circle of Elders has also shown more interest than appropriate in the workings of the Purity Fellowship Foundation. This must stop. Just because you have a new prophet doesn’t mean you have a weak prophet. I will continue the same strong financial leadership shown by my father, and I won’t brook any interference from the Circle. Furthermore, if they continue to meddle in Purity’s financial affairs, I’ll disband the Circle completely.”
The previous groans gave rise to angry bellows from the Circle of Elders, making me wonder which bothered them most—lessened sexual access to children, or to money. In the midst of their outcries, a shaft of sunlight burst into the room, lending a glow to Davis’s pale blond hair. He reminded me of the Pre-Raphaelite paintings I’d seen of medieval knights starting off on a holy quest. Maybe he even saw himself that way.
Now he stepped back from the lectern and opened his arms, as if embracing the group. “I’ve noted your concern over these proposed changes and I sympathize. But brothers and sisters, look at yourselves! Are you happy your wives dress in rags? Are you happy with their rotting teeth? Are you content to raise your children in slums?”
The Circle of Elders stopped howling and watched carefully as Davis’s voice grew even louder. “Folks, of course you’re not happy with this state of affairs! Therefore, I’m going to rewrite the Circle’s charter, and beginning next month, in my new capacity as CEO of the Purity Fellowship Foundation, I’ll allow each family to keep a portion of their income. You men won’t have to sign over your entire paychecks to the Foundation, just a percentage. That’ll also be true for our senior members’ Social Security checks and our sisters’ welfare and SSI checks. Brothers, buy your wives some new clothes and take them to the dentist. Sisters, buy your children new toys!”
The room erupted into cheers, but the Circle of Elders remained ominously silent.
I hid my smile. Purity’s new prophet wasn’t just handsome, he was smart. In one fell swoop, Davis had reaffirmed his financial control over Purity, and at the same time, earned the approval of the vast majority of its residents. By doing so openly, he’d effectively forestalled any chance the Circle of Elders might have to retain their power. If the Elders were foolish enough to try, they’d have a riot on their hands.
When the noise died down, Davis stepped back to the lectern.
“Now let’s revisit Brother Noah’s concerns.” He turned his blinding good looks on the young man. “Brother Noah, now that you understand you will be able to keep a portion of each wife’s income, do you think you might reconsider the Circle of Elders’ offer and open your heart to some lonely widows?”
Noah struggled to his feet. With his short, severely bowed legs, it gained him little height. “It all depends on what kind of a cut I’ll get. If my cut’s big enough, then the more the merrier.”
More grumbling from the assemblage as Noah sat back down. Even setting aside the dog-shooting incident, it was easy to see why he wasn’t popular. I felt sorry for the widows who wound up with him.
Davis appeared to disapprove of the young man’s obvious greed, too, and a frown replaced his smile. “Stay after the meeting tonight and we’ll discuss it.”
Earl Graff jumped up, light glinting off his American Gothic spectacles. The sudden movement tore a side seam on his shirt, and he looked more like an overstuffed sausage than ever.
“Wait a minute!” he shouted. “You can’t just start overhauling everything to suit yourself! The Circle of Elders will have something to say about that.”
Davis pasted his smile back on. “We’ll talk in a couple of weeks, at the next regularly scheduled Circle meeting.”
Graff refused to be put off. “All these problems you’re talking about, the media and everything, they’ll all go away once they get that…that…woman back up here in jail where she belongs.” The way he said “woman” made the word sound like an expletive.
Davis didn’t address himself to Earl’s overt misogyny. “I don’t think we can relax until she’s been tried and found guilty. In fact, the trial might be the worst part of all this. Her lawyer will have to come up with some kind of a defense, Brother Earl, which means there’ll no doubt be some finger-pointing this way. Like I said earlier, everyone needs to be on their toes. Remember, my father was preparing to marry her thirteen-year-old daughter, and that might not play well in the media no matter what our friends do to hush it up.”
With that, he looked in my direction. “You newcomers, I advise you to be especially careful. Keep modesty in your words and deeds at all times.”
Modesty in my words and deeds. Too bad my partner Jimmy wasn’t here. He’d fall out of his chair laughing.
But Saul and I dutifully nodded as Davis went on to recap what everyone already knew: that Esther was awaiting extradition to Utah; that her trial for murder would foll
ow shortly; that her conviction was pretty much a done deal.
“There are two witnesses who saw her arguing with Prophet Solomon the evening he was killed,” Davis continued. “And we all know that when she still lived here, there were times that she…”
A familiar voice interrupted him. I looked over and saw that old Jacob Waldman had risen to his feet, his eyes glinting with a mean, hard light. “The Lord will judge me harshly because I have raised up the Whore of Babylon.”
Davis looked startled, then quickly recovered. “Now, now, Brother Jacob. We know you did your best to raise Sister Esther in the ways of the Lord, but sometimes, no matter how hard we try, our children disappoint us. Remember that she left the compound and lived Outside for many years. We shouldn’t be surprised that she succumbed to Satan’s wiles.”
“She ate from the tree of Satan,” Jacob Waldman agreed. “Perhaps with blood atonement…?”
Davis’s eyes widened, and around the room, a dozen throats cleared at once. “Brother Jacob, there will be no more talk of blood atonement in Purity,” he said firmly. “That manner of thinking belongs to the past.”
“But God demands blood atonement for sins like hers! He’s demanded blood atonement before, and on each occasion, we’ve complied.”
Davis slammed the gavel against the lectern hard enough to make some nearby ferns wobble. “I said there will be no more talk of blood atonement, Brother Jacob! Do you understand?”
I was vaguely familiar with the old Mormon philosophy of blood atonement, which meant that a sin against God could only be erased by the shedding of the sinner’s blood. Unless I had totally misinterpreted Brother Jacob’s words, this philosophy, supposedly discarded when the official LDS church relinquished polygamy, was still being practiced in Purity. If so, whom had they killed? And why?
As I stared at the old man, his hard eyes began to lose their focus again. “God says…God says…”
With that, an elderly woman sitting nearby took him by the hand and, with the help of two burly men, hustled him away.