“Abel, wake up.” I reached into the backseat and nudged Verlan’s snoring nephew who had shared his sedan with us for the trip from San Diego. “Go see what’s going on out there, will you?”
Abel sat up with a start, groggy from having driven most of the long trip. “What? What’s happening?” he mumbled, leaning over my shoulder as he squinted out the windshield. A quick glance was all he needed. “What the heck . . .?” He hurriedly opened his door and joined the others.
Although Verlan’s window was open, I couldn’t hear the men’s voices over the engine. I turned it off and doused the headlights. Suddenly I realized that beyond the group of men were other figures farther down the road, some of them carrying lanterns. This was too strange! I wrapped a blanket around the baby and hurried to the group of people surrounding Verlan.
Several of the guys were talking at once as I approached, with Floren’s voice being the most dominant. “Absolutely not,” he was insisting to Verlan. “You aren’t going anywhere without a bodyguard. Nowhere, you hear me? Abel can take her to her Mom’s. Sigfried and Ossmen are waiting for you at Magdalena’s; let’s get over there!”
“Verlan, what’s going on?”
As I grabbed Verlan’s arm, Floren shoved me away. “Don’t! Stay away from him, Susan,” he commanded. “Get back in the car and Abel will take you to your Mom’s. Hurry up, now, get out of here. Verlan’s busy, so you’re on your own.”
My eyes practically popped out in angry surprise. “What’s happened?” I demanded. “Somebody tell me what’s going on!”
“Joel’s been killed!” Verlan said hoarsely. His face was hidden in the shadows, but his voice held the same shock and disbelief that the words hit me with.
“What?” I gasped. My eyes roved frantically over the men huddled around us. They settled on Delfino, whose face was somewhat visible because of the flashlight in his hand. “Joel?” my stiff lips whispered, scanning Delfino’s black eyes for verification. As he nodded, my arms holding James weakened, and my blanket-clad little boy slipped to the ground.
Abel grabbed and steadied me, and one of the Mexican men scooped up a wailing James. Dizziness and nausea swept over me, the men surrounding me fading in and out of my vision.
“Put your head down,” Abel’s voice came to me from far away. Then Verlan’s arms were around me, his rough whiskers against my cheek. “It was Dan,” he croaked. “Oh, my God! It was Dan Jordan. Dan shot him—in Ensenada—Oh, my God. Oh, my God, no! Joel, Joel!” He rocked me back and forth, his body shaking.
“It can’t be true,” I babbled, my mouth dry as cotton. “Oh, Verlan, it’s a lie! It’s just a lie! Joel can’t be dead; his mission isn’t over yet! Don’t you remember, he’s supposed to be here until Jesus comes! Don’t cry, honey, he’s not dead!”
Floren yanked me out of Verlan’s arms. “Let’s go,” he barked at him. “You’re a target, damn it! You want her in danger? Now, let’s go take care of business. Abel, take this girl to her family.”
I got back into the car and watched through the rear window as Verlan and Floren disappeared from my view. When Abel maneuvered the car around the potholes, I hazily noted the huddled groups of people gathered on the street corners of Colonia LeBaron. Their faces mirrored confusion, their eyes incredulous. They carried on a lantern-lit vigil in honor of our fallen leader. I knew they were harboring the same questions, the same denial, and the same horror as I was. Oh, how could this be? Joel, dead? It couldn’t be true! God wouldn’t allow it—it was all a mistake, a sick, Satanic hoax. Either that, or—or the end of the world was actually here—it was happening right now! These were the only possible explanations.
Abel opened the car door for us in front of my parents’ dark, silent home. His round, bespectacled face was a mask of shock, and he wordlessly pulled my suitcase from the trunk and set it on the porch. Then he climbed back in the car and drove away.
Shifting James’s weight onto my hip, I pushed open the door to my mother’s bedroom. “Mom, it’s Susan,” I croaked. “Mom?”
Only silence and the smell of stale air greeted us. I hurried across the porch and into the living room, but even as I felt my way into the kitchen, I knew there was no one home, that the house had been deserted for some time. The musty odor attested to it. One-handed, I felt for a box of matches, found one in a kitchen drawer, and lit a lamp.
Dust covered the counters and table. Dirty dishes piled in the sink, the old food hard and moldy, was causing the smell. Adding to it was a half-filled, rotting garbage can. My stomach rolled, my second month of pregnancy once again making itself blatantly apparent.
Where was my mother and sisters? Carrying the lamp in one hand and James with the other arm, I wandered through the deserted house. How could they be gone, when the whole world was spinning out of control? Maybe with Joel dead they’d been translated up to heaven like Elijah in the Bible. Stranger things had happened—were happening even now.
I sat at the kitchen table, rocked James back to sleep, and stared at the smoking lamp. My mind reeled. The world had gone crazy—it must be coming to an end. The church had constantly preached about the end of the world coming soon, ever since I was a little child, and if the Prophet was actually dead, then there was no other answer. Joel was supposed to be here until Jesus’s return; at least, that’s what I’d always been taught. So if he were really dead would he come back to life as Jesus had?
I blew out the lamp, grabbed my purse and suitcase with one hand, arranged James’s sleeping little body against my other shoulder, and left my mother’s empty house. The suitcase was unbearably heavy and cut into my fingers as I hurried across the dark colony toward Grandma LeBaron’s. Oh, Grandma, I thought, her sweet old face haunting my thoughts with every step, how can you possibly live through this unspeakable tragedy? This will kill you if it’s true. Oh Sweet God in Heaven, don’t let it be true! Please, please . . .
A small group of people, huddled in front of Esther Spencer’s rock fence, was singing “We Thank Thee, Oh God, for a Prophet” as I stumbled toward them. They turned toward me as I approached, the hymn dwindling away as Maria, my father’s second wife shouted out, left the group, and hurried to me.
“Susana, honey, what are you doing here?” she asked amazed, taking my bag and wrapping her free arm around my shoulders. “Is Verlan with you? Did he get here safe?” I nodded as the others crowded around us.
“Uncle Verlan’s here? You were with him?” Sammy LeBaron, Abel’s brother, eagerly questioned me.
“Yes, we arrived a half hour ago,” I answered. “Verlan’s with Floren and Sigfried. He’s fine, safe.” I hesitated, loath voicing my horrible question. “Is it really true? Oh, Sammy, is Joel actually dea—gone?” The words choked in my throat.
His colorless lips trembled. “That’s what they say—I don’t know. Velma Jones, Ossmen’s wife, called from San Diego and said Dan Jordan murdered Uncle Joel in cold blood. She said my little cousin, Jeannine’s boy Ivan, saw it happen. Ivan saw Dan shoot his dad! That poor little boy.” Sammy turned away, his shoulders hunched.
My heart nearly stopped, my mind exploding with renewed grief and horror. Ivan! Oh, dear Lord, my sweet Ivan, my little buddy—my little helper. I’d left him—just two days ago I’d left him with Lillie in Los Molinos. And yet, somehow he was in Ensenada yesterday and witnessed his own father murdered? Oh, Lord no, no! Not my Ivan. Oh, and Lillie! Joel was her stepfather! She had to be beside herself with grief. And Jeannine . . . her husband dead. It was all too much, too much. I stumbled to a large rock at the edge of Esther’s lot and sat down. Burying my face in James’s soft shoulder, I sobbed.
Maria’s arms crept around me; her tears mingling with my own as she tried to comfort me. “Is okay, Susana, is okay. God is in control. He knows what he’s doing, is okay,” she crooned.
“Where are my mother and sisters?” I asked her when I c
ould talk.
“Oh, honey, your Mama’s in Utah. I’m so sorry, Querida! Your Grandma got really sick, and your Mama had to go. Two weeks ago, she left—your Papa took her. Fara and Mona are staying at Jay’s ranch out at Spencerville. Pobrecita Susanita.” She patted my shoulder and kissed my hair.
I sobbed again, harder. I needed my mother right now! How could she be gone when I’d come all this way! But I couldn’t think about that—there were too many horrible things happening, I couldn’t be thinking about myself right now. I blew my nose on the edge of James’s blanket. “Does Jay know? About Joel?”
“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I haven’t seen him, and we all just found out late tonight. But he probably knows. Someone probably drove there to tell him, I think.”
“Maria, this is going to kill Grandma LeBaron,” I whispered, my chin trembling.
“I know, honey. I know.”
“I need to go there. Will you help me?” I asked.
“Yes, but Sammy has his truck here, he’ll take you, I’m sure. Momento, I’ll ask him.”
I climbed into Sammy’s pickup, grateful for the ride. James was so heavy, and with the suitcase, more than I could handle.
“Sam, what’s going to happen to us?” I asked as we moved toward Grandma’s. “How will we possibly cope if Joel’s really gone?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know!” He wildly shook his head. “I can’t imagine it, it’s so against everything we’ve been taught would happen. Who would have ever thought Uncle Ervil would actually do such a hellish thing? Yes, he’s been threatening to, but, to actually carry it out! It’s just—just unbelievable!”
“Ervil?” I echoed in a whisper. My lips felt stiff. Until this moment I hadn’t truly connected the dots. The possibility, then the knowledge, of Joel’s death had shut my brain down, and it had refused to accept the appalling fact. Ervil!
“Of course, Ervil!” Sammy snapped bitterly. “Maybe Dan shot him, but Uncle Ervil’s the one behind it; you know that! Dan was just the hit man. And, from what I gathered from Ossmen Jones, Uncle Verlan was supposed to have been killed, too. But you guys left San Diego a day early, right? Before they could get to him, thank God! Did you know that? We’re mighty lucky that Uncle Verlan’s not dead too.”
I bit my lip, trembling. Because of Abel’s offering us a ride to Colonia LeBaron, we had left sooner than originally planned! No wonder Floren had acted as he had and was talking about bodyguards for Verlan! “Maybe you will take care of Verlan, yes?” Ervil’s haunting words reverberated in my ears.
As we pulled into the driveway I peered at my watch, then hurried onto Grandma’s front porch. Almost two o’clock. As I waited for someone to answer the door, I remembered another late-night visit I’d made to Grandma LeBaron’s house. Ervil’s evil had been at the center of my visit then, too, but that had been nothing in comparison to this. How could I stand to look into Grandma’s eyes tonight?
Lawreve Jensen, the woman whose home I’d stayed in the night of my wedding, answered my timid knock. Behind her, Esther Spencer sat on the couch with Grandma LeBaron. They were clasping hands, their faces masked in sorrow and disbelief.
“Susan! Oh, sweetheart,” Grandma’s knobby hands reached for me. I handed James to Lawreve and hurried to her, kneeling and wrapping my arms around her thin shoulders. She shook as she sobbed and moaned, clutching me tightly while rocking back and forth.
“Grandma, oh, Grandma,” I whispered, kissing her cheek over and over. “I’m so sorry. So sorry! I don’t even know what to say . . . Oh, I love you so much, and I’m so sorry you have to live through this—this nightmare . . . How I wish I could take it all away from you.” I buried my face in her neck.
“I know, dearie, I know,” she sobbed. “I wish I’d died before this happened, because I can’t bear it. My precious boys . . . ” she turned her wet face away, her anguish more than she could stand for anyone to see.
Esther patted my hair and touched my cheek, her face stiff with sorrow. I squeezed her hand and pulled away from Grandma’s arms.
“Mother needs to get some rest,” Esther whispered. “Help me get her to bed.”
Amid Grandma’s protests, we walked her to her bedroom. Esther turned down her bed and I helped her into her nightgown. “I’ll stay with her awhile, dear,” Esther said. “You must be exhausted. Verlan sent word he would be here soon. Mother has the corner room ready for you. Make yourself at home.”
It was an hour before Verlan crawled into bed next to me. He was beyond exhaustion, and regardless of his deep sorrow, began snoring immediately.
The scorching, August sun was well into the sky before Verlan’s stifled sobs woke me. I wrapped my arms around him, reliving the horror of the past few hours. His body was rigid with grief and hot as fire. As I kissed his wet cheek, my exhausted brain searched for words of comfort. But they wouldn’t come. I couldn’t find the words. So I patted him and kissed him and said, “Shush, shush, it’s okay, honey. It’s okay.”
“He was my brother,” Verlan moaned, shuddering. “He was my brother, my precious brother. Oh, Susan, how can we go on without Joel?”
The brethren decided that conference should proceed as scheduled. The timing of Joel’s murder left little doubt that the Ervilites anticipated enough turmoil that conference would be canceled. We couldn’t allow them to defeat us. First, we would have Joel’s funeral, followed immediately by the scheduled, three-day event.
Joel really, truly was dead. No hoax, no misunderstanding. Family members had hastened to the mortuary where Joel’s body lay and verified that the Prophet had been shot in the head.
Phone calls from members in San Diego flooded the message phone in our neighboring village of Galeana. The calls related that Joel and his wives, Jeannine and Kathy, along with several of his children, Ivan included, had stopped in Ensenada to pick up an old car of Joel’s that was parked in front of the home of Benjamin Zarate. Somehow the keys to the car had been left at another residence across town, so Joel sent his wives, along with Benjamin’s son, Andres, to locate the keys. All the children rode with them except Ivan, who had remained behind to help Joel work on the car.
Meanwhile, Ervil’s follower, Gamaliel Rios, had showed up, approached Joel, and said that he and Dan Jordan had questions of a religious nature for him. So Joel and Gamaliel walked inside the Zarate house and visited while waiting for Dan to arrive. Outside, Ivan, patiently awaiting his father, climbed into the front seat of the old car they had been working on. Its dusty windshield hid his small, slumped figure from Dan Jordan’s view as he approached the house. Ivan witnessed Dan shake hands with Joel through the open living room window, then enter the front door. Within minutes Ivan heard raised voices, sounds of a scuffle, a window breaking, and gunshots. Immediately Gamaliel Rios jumped out an open side window and Dan walked out the front door of the house. Both men fled down the street.
Meantime, Jeannine and Kathy had been sent on a wild-goose chase. Andres Zarate led them across town to where the elusive key supposedly was—only to be told that Andres’s brother had it and had gone to a swap meet. They drove to the swap meet, where Andres left them to locate his brother. The women waited for more than an hour, becoming annoyed and mystified. Andres had disappeared! Finally they decided to leave, return to the Zarate house, and tell Joel what had happened.
As they approached the house they became alarmed. Crowds hovered on the sidewalk and people peered in the windows. Neither Joel nor Ivan could be seen. Kathy and the children waited in the pickup and Jeannine entered the house and called for Joel. No one answered. Blood was all over the floor! Jeannine frantically questioned a bystander and was told that a tall, blond man had been shot. “Who did it?” she choked.
“Daniel,” a Mexican man answered. “Daniel Jordan.”
Jeannine and Kathy raced to the police station. When they entered the
building, Ivan ran to Jeannine, sobbing, “They killed Daddy!” When she asked him who had done it, he answered, “It was Dan.”
That same afternoon Ervil’s son Arthur, along with one of Anna Mae’s boys, Eddie Marston, went to Los Molinos looking for Verlan. But he, James, and I were en route to Colonia LeBaron.
The following evening, a large group gathered at the airport in the colony’s neighboring city of Casas Grandes. It seemed the whole town was here; everyone desired to be present for the arrival of our leader’s body. Fear for my husband clutched me as I waited with the silent crowd. I could see Verlan, his bodyguards hovering close.
I’d ridden to the airport with Jay and Carmela. The men surrounding Verlan refused to let me near. Though I understood their actions, I was angry. He was my husband; he needed me, and I needed him even more now. I felt ill with worry as the details of Joel’s murder came to light. Verlan was in grave danger, and I couldn’t bear to be parted from him. But my pleading was of no avail. Floren and Sigfried surrounded him, and they treated me like an annoying fly and shooed me away if I got too close.
The men’s meetings had been interminable since we’d arrived at the colony, and were only now interrupted as we watched the black sky for the plane lights. Jay had been included in the meetings, and I’d only gotten to see him tonight, when he and Carmela, Fara, and Mona, had picked me up at Grandma’s for the forty-mile ride to the airport. Our usual, joyful greetings had been subdued, our whispered visiting during the long ride minimal. Keen shock and vague unease hovered over us. The question on everyone’s mind seemed to be, what now? Is this the end of the world as we know it?
Standing behind me, quietly scanning the sky, I suddenly recognized Joel’s seventh wife—his last—Priscilla, a half-sister to Lane Stubbs, my old flame. She stood a bit apart from the rest of us. I stared, my heart breaking for her. By the dim light of the overhead flood lamps, I studied her lovely face, surprised at how calm and collected she seemed. She was awaiting the body of her slain husband, yet her eyes held no tears and her features appeared normal. And here I was, my own husband nearby, alive and well, and I was trembling with fear for him and shock for us all. How did Priscilla control her emotions so well?
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