"I'm not your wife," said Rachel coldly.
He refused to resume his seat, even when one of his attorneys tugged on his jacket. "In our beliefs, a man's betrothed is the same thing as his wife. This woman cannot testify against me!"
"I'm not a woman yet," said Rachel. "I hope to be a woman soon, but right now I'm still a girl."
Both of Flack's attorneys grimaced at the interchange, and both looked hurriedly at the jury to see how the six men and six women had reacted to their client's outburst. Most of the juror's faces were impassive, but a few were nodding their heads at Rachel's declaration.
Over the next three and a half weeks, a procession of prosecution and defense witnesses marched to the stand, including nearly all of the Sheba Hill elders, who testified that their leader's decisions were sacred, since he was God's personal representative on the planet.
"Even when his decisions are contrary to the laws of Montana?" asked the attorney general.
"Even then."
"But wouldn't such an attitude lead to anarchy?"
"We ought to obey God, rather than man."
Seth and Esther Lemon, Janie and Rachel's parents, testified on behalf of the Prophet, even though the twins had told them the full story of Bitterroot Camp. When answering questions about Mary Lemon, Rachel and Janie's older sister, Seth told the court that the Prophet was devastated when Mary died at fourteen after only a year of marriage.
"Don't you think being forced into a marriage with John Flack at the age of thirteen might have contributed to her death?"
"Of course not. She considered it a privilege to help continue the Prophet's bloodlines that go all the way back to King Solomon."
Sheba Observer:
PROPHET FLACK PERSECUTED FOR RELIGIOUS BELIEFS
The trial in Helena of J.J. Flack, seer, and revelator of the Sheba Hill Temple, is nothing more than a witch-hunt, a violation of the Prophet's First Amendment rights. Though he has tried many times during the course of the trial to explain the tenets of his church to the courts, he has been continually ignored and ridiculed, until his only solace is the sure knowledge that God hears and understands.
The support for the Prophet in the spectators' gallery has been overwhelming, reinforced by the presence of almost all of the senior elders of the Sheba Hill assembly. These church officials have vowed to protest vehemently if the verdict…
**
Missoulian.com:
MURDER CHARGES AWAIT CULT LEADER
The Missoula Police Department and the Missoula County Sheriff's Department, in cooperation with special agents from the FBI announced today they will be filing murder charges against John Joseph Flack in conjunction with multiple corpses found in an abandoned mine near the sect's Bitterroot Camp retraining center. More bodies were discovered in the mountains nearby, and those deaths are currently under investigation. Already charged in the case is Stephen R. Mobly, director of the camp. Mobly was arrested in Helena and taken to Missoula to be arraigned. The task force stated that charges against Flack himself will not be made until the conclusion of his present trial.
Helena Independent Record:
FLACK GUILTY
Judge Morrie West has sentenced convicted felon John Joseph Flack to five years to life on each of eleven counts of felony accomplice rape and other charges; and Judge West has ordered that the sentences run consecutively. The verdict and the sentencing caused an uproar in the courtroom by senior officials of Flack's church. But the disturbance was quelled when Lewis and Clark County sheriff's deputies circulated through the crowd serving arrest warrants for sexual assault against minors on most of the Sheba Hill Assembly's older males who were present in the gallery. Led off in handcuffs were: Elder Henry R. Biggars; Elder Seth T. Lemon; Elder Randall L. Riggs; and Elder Jonathan C. Tate. A warrant in the name of Elder Stephen R. Mobly was also on hand but not served, since Mobly is in Missoula awaiting trial for murder. At this point John Joseph Flack was rearrested and charged with murder. Just when he will go to trial on these new charges is unknown at this time. Flack was defiant to the end, screaming that he was being martyred for his religious convictions and that he will be vindicated—if not in this world, then in the next.
"Consecutive sentences?" asked Janie. "What does that mean?"
"One right after another," said Rachel, "and it means he'll be a very old man before he'll be able to ruin another girl like Mary."
"If he gets out at all," said Justin. "He's still got murder charges against him in Missoula."
"I hated to see Father arrested," said Janie.
"Me, too," said Rachel, "but he made his choices and now he's living with them."
24
A New Beginning
Esther Lemon, the twins' mother, had never been mentally healthy, even in the best of times; and the collapse of the Sheba Hill society and the incarceration of her husband aggravated her instability to the point that she had to be placed in an institution for what promised to be an extended period of time.
Justin's Aunt Ruby, who had regained all of her former strength and common sense, invited Rachel and Janie to live with her and Justin in Alaska; and the twins readily accepted.
It was now winter again, and the three thirteen year olds were standing beside a bronze memorial to Justin's father and to Justin's Uncle Garth. The area that the two men had been surveying when the landslide caught them was now a ski resort, and Justin looked around and shook his head. "Hard to believe it happened right here." His voice cracked and he stumbled slightly as he spoke.
Both girls responded at the same moment, embracing him until it was clear he had regained control of his emotions.
"Sorry," he said.
"No need to be sorry," said Janie. "It's good for us all to be reminded there are men like your father and your uncle in this world. We've seen men at their worst, and now we're standing beside a monument to men at their best."
It was as if Janie had been given words from some outside source, and all three teenagers burst into tears simultaneously. Several passersby stopped to stare, but the three friends ignored them, crying softly without shame.
Rachel broke the spell. "It's cold out here. Justin, do you still have that bow and drill you used to make fire in the Bitterroots?"
He pulled out a book of matches. "I always carry one of these now—just in case."
Janie said, "If the wind kicks up and we get hungry we could snare a squirrel and build a tree-pit shelter."
Justin motioned down the hill. "Better to head for the rec center and get some cheeseburgers, don't you think?"
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RUNAWAY TWINS IN ALASKA
Bears, Bad Guys, and Nature's Fury
1
Big Bertha
The sky was the brightest blue Justin Patrick had ever seen, and he found he was squinting even though he was wearing sunglasses. The May wind was blowing down Yuktapah Canyon, causing him to dance in place and hug himself for warmth. The air was crisp and clean, filling his lungs and energizing him as he stood on a rocky point overlooking Glacier Lake, searching for signs of the grizzly sow Big Bertha, her mate Bruno, and their two cubs Little Bertha and Umbriago.
Justin knew Big Bertha was what the rangers call a problem bear, not that she ever hurt anyone, but she had developed a fondness for campsites and human groceries that put her life in danger. The park service couldn't tolerate a grizzly that wouldn't adhere to rules, boundaries, and proper behavior, and as a result, the rangers were forced to consider unpleasant alternatives.
She spent the first seven years of her life in Katmai on the Alaskan peninsula; and until she began hanging around the stations, the visitors centers, and other people places, service officials thought she would live out her entire life in the park. They relocated her within Katmai three times, but she always found her way back to the campsites and human groceries. The rangers now had to make a decision: pu
t her down or send her far, far away, deep into the interior. They chose the latter.
They considered Denali, but rejected it. The four hundred thousand visitors Denali hosts each year might prove too much of a temptation to Big Bertha, so they chose Yuktapah Preserve where visitors were rare. She was tranquilized, loaded into a float plane, and flown to Glacier Lake in the back country near the eastern boundary of the preserve. During the flight the rangers compared notes and discovered that a majority of the staff had voted to put Bertha down, but had been overridden by the superintendent who opted for the interior.
Justin was glad she had been spared, for even though he had known her only since she had emerged from hibernation this year, he had come to care for her—the way she waddled, the way she growled, moaned, barked, huffed, and roared—the way she protected her cubs. She was his special bear, and when the Katmai rangers told him how close she'd come to death the previous year, his blood ran cold.
He named her Big Bertha, because even after leaving her den, she was enormous, as if the long winter's nap hadn't diminished her one bit. He didn't know exactly how much she weighed now, but last month when he first saw her he'd guessed her weight at seven hundred pounds, or more; and she'd gotten larger since. Little wonder. She spent every waking hour eating or searching for food. She didn't get enough real exercise. She didn't even play with her own cubs, Little Bertha and Umbriago (named by Rachel and Janie Lemon, Justin's fellow bear-management interns).
Last fall, like many of the adult sows in Yuktapah, Big Bertha had been fitted with a radio collar, but she also had a second collar—a video camera, and during the day while she was foraging, she was taking short film clips of the hills, forests, and grasslands from her point of view. Yuktapah bear-management rangers, Rex and Martha Carlson, had explained that the short clips would be combined into a longer video at some point—sort of a day in the life of Big Bertha. But why anyone would be interested in watching a fat, grizzly sow eating insects, grubs, berries, and arctic squirrels, Justin had no idea.
The cubs were sticking as close to Bertha as they could. They craved her milk and they came after it as often as she would let them. They were vulnerable to every conceivable danger: big cats, wolves, coyotes—even their own father Bruno (named by Rachel) who was currently hovering around, waiting for a chance to kill and eat his own offspring and for another opportunity to mate with Big Bertha. Justin shook his head. Most male grizzlies would be a danger to the cubs of a rival boar and not threaten their own, but apparently Bruno made no such distinction. Imagine, making a meal of Little Bertha and Umbriago. What a horrible thought. What a horrible father. Ursus arctos horribilis.
And Bruno was the reason Justin was up early in the cold wind, searching for Bertha and the cubs. The boar had been sighted in the vicinity and Justin was determined to help drive him away. Bertha would do her part, for nothing angered a sow more than a boar threatening her cubs, but she might not be able to accomplish the task on her own. And Justin had come prepared. He had found a large can of spray bear repellant in the cabin and also an air horn designed to emit a loud screeching noise that would send the most aggressive bear retreating deep into the woods.
He wished his pals Rachel and Janie Lemon were with him today. They wouldn't like what he was about to do, but he knew they would cover his back and not falter if he needed help or a warning. They had proven themselves brave and true in the Bitterrroot adventure a year and a half ago, and he had no doubt regarding their courage and good judgment. But they had flown to Montana to see their mother and father, so he was on his own.
It was probably best that Rex and Martha Carlson were also away for a rangers' meeting in Denali, because if they were present, they might insist that a fourteen-year-old boy, regardless of his extensive outdoor experience, had no business confronting grizzlies on his own. At the very least, Rex would have wanted to come along with a dart rifle and maybe even a Remington Model Seven to insure his nephew's safety.
But Justin was alone and that was the way it was; and Bruno was not going to wait for back-up to arrive before attacking his cubs. What was required had to be done now.
Justin climbed over the ridge to gain a better view of the fields beyond. Nothing. No bears in any direction, which was unusual from this vantage point. On most mornings there were several grizzlies visible somewhere in the distance. It appeared he would have to widen his search if he was to find Bruno and discourage him from what the violent boar surely had in mind. But Justin would have to be careful, for Bruno could be dangerous and would have to be approached intelligently—air horn and bear repellant in hand. And Justin needed to be wary not only of Bruno, but of Big Bertha as well. If she thought Justin was threatening Little Bertha and Umbriago in any way, she would charge, as if he were a complete stranger.
Judging the distance between hills and valleys was difficult in Alaska (and elsewhere), and though he quick-marched wherever possible, it was nearly an hour before he crested his next objective and gazed down on the meadow below. The scene that greeted him made the effort worthwhile, for there, foraging on the side of a small rise, was Big Bertha. And to complete the victory, Little Bertha and Umbriago were nearby, rolling and tumbling, acting as if they didn't have a care in the world.
But they were wrong, because from his position, Justin could see death in the person of Bruno the boar creeping down the hill on the opposite side of the valley. And though the distance between Justin and Bruno was at least three hundred yards, Justin imagined he could see saliva dripping down Bruno's face as he anticipated gobbling up his kids.
Bertha was oblivious. Her head was down and she was clearly more concerned with rooting out gophers, field mice, and other morsels than with the safety of her cubs. Justin felt a rush of anger at his new friend for her self-centered behavior, and then checked himself with a laugh when he realized what he was doing. She was a bear, not a human, and the lecture he'd been preparing for her would fall on highly sensitive but uncomprehending ears.
To make matters worse, Little Bertha and Umbriago were separating themselves from Big Bertha with each passing moment. They were now wrestling and chasing each other and taking the path of least resistance as they played—which was down the rise, away from their foraging mother…straight toward their approaching father, whose parental instincts ran to animal cannibalism.
Justin gasped. It was only a matter of time until the cubs were within Bruno's reach. Why didn't Bertha look up? Why didn't she smell or hear her ex as he inched closer and closer? Why didn't she raise up on her hind legs and roar? He considered the air horn he carried on his belt. The distance was too great for the blast to shock Bruno and drive him away, but maybe it would wake up Bertha to the danger and get her to take the lead until Justin could close the gap.
He decided to try to get closer before he made any move. He was afraid the wind would dilute the horn's effectiveness, make it sound like a moose's mating call or a passing airplane. He took off at a dead run, watching for rocks and holes so he wouldn't end up sprawled in the meadow with a broken ankle.
When he cut the distance by two thirds, he pulled up, satisfied with what he saw in front of him. The cubs were now romping in one spot at the bottom of the rise, Bruno was being overly careful, perhaps understanding how furious the cubs' mother would be if she sensed what he was up to. And Bertha herself was a bit more attentive, raising her head occasionally, as if she suspected something was not quite right.
At this point Justin's hope for an orderly solution fell apart. Both adult bears stood on their hind legs at the same moment and gave out high decibel screams that echoed across the narrow valley. Little Bertha and Umbriago ceased their play and looked up in confusion, first at their mother and then at their father. It was plain they still had no idea what was happening and why; but Justin knew, and there was little doubt in his mind what was going to happen next.
Bertha charged down the hillside at high speed, and Bruno tried to outrun her, like a racehorse in the str
etch.
The cubs seemed bewildered.
Justin felt for the air horn and ripped it from his belt. He didn't question that Bertha in her fury could hold her own, but she would surely be injured in the encounter, and he didn't want that. It might mean she would be disabled and die later, leaving her cubs helpless and unable to care for themselves. Better to intervene, and now.
He squeezed the release on the horn and recoiled in surprise at the piercing sound that filled the air. It was loud enough to wake the spirits of Kaiti and the Volcano Woman, and it was enough to stop both bears in their tracks.
He squeezed again and the cubs jumped as if their world was coming to an end.
The adults were frozen in place, each turning slowly, uncertain whether to attack or run.
Justin moved to help Bruno make his decision. He crept forward until he was within fifteen feet of the boar's back, and then like a western gunfighter, he yanked the pepper spray from his belt. It was a foolish action he knew, but one that might set Bruno on a long-distance run that would take him far away, into an area where he couldn't bother his offspring—especially if the spray hit him in the face and was combined with another loud blast of the air horn.
He called out, "Hey, Bruno!" And as the bear whirled around, Justin sent a long stream directly into his eyes. At the same moment, Justin grabbed the horn and released an ear-shattering screech.
Bruno roared and took off for the edge of the forest at what seemed to be a faster pace than he'd used to race toward his cubs.
RUNAWAY TWINS and RUNAWAY TWINS IN ALASKA: BOXED SET Page 12