Forgotten Son

by Linda Warren

  Afterward, the men hugged Buford and the women and children bowed at his feet. This was even harder to watch—how these women had been subdued into servitude, yet praised his name the whole time.

  The men retired to their huts with their wives and children. Eli watched the dark-haired woman. She didn’t follow any of the men. Instead, she went to the kitchen area. His curiosity grew, but he didn’t want to cause any dissention that would get him kicked out of here—not until he knew where they were keeping Caroline.

  Nathaniel brought him two old quilts, and Eli lay under the stars. The Dobermans guarded the compound and Ezra was out walking them around the fence. This was Eli’s opportunity to inspect the area.

  He’d noticed the rickety barn earlier and now saw a corral for the mules. The chickens had gone to roost for the night and the goats were lying around the barn. He was careful not to disturb them.

  From the light of the moon, Eli saw a wooden door on the ground not far from the back of Buford’s house. He crept forward to check it out. The door opened easily, but creaked loudly in the process. Waiting to make sure no one had heard, he investigated.

  He followed steps down into a dark hole—a cellar of some kind. With his hands outstretched he felt walls of dirt braced with plywood. There were shelves filled with jars.

  It was a vegetable cellar—the type used in olden days to store jars so they wouldn’t freeze in the winter and would stay cool in the summer. There was enough food here to last a year. And the cellar provided shelter from tornadoes and bad weather.

  Eli wasn’t sure how the ceiling was supported, but it had to be braced with something. He kept searching with his hands, but all he felt was wood, jars and dirt. The FBI had already checked out the room. Had they missed something? He could see nothing in the darkness, and decided to return in daylight.

  Climbing the steps, Eli closed the door carefully, making as little noise as possible. A makeshift shed was used for storing feed for the animals, and he made his way there.

  He saw no trace of Caroline.

  Eli hurried back to his pallet before Ezra returned, feeling his frustration mounting. He fell into a fitful sleep.

  The cult’s morning ritual was much the same as the previous night’s. Everyone was up at five and the women served breakfast after Buford gave the blessing. The prophet preached again, then everyone went to work except Buford. He asked to see Eli in his quarters.

  Eli followed him to the same room as yesterday. Peter waited outside at the door, with Ezra, who was tending to the dogs.

  “Have a seat, my brother,” Amos said, sitting at a small table holding papers, books and a worn Bible. This furniture was not rough or crude. It had probably been brought in specially for Buford and his needs.

  Eli did as instructed, wondering what this was about.

  Amos folded his hands over the Bible. “You have been with us for a day and night. How do you like it here?”

  “Very peaceful and quiet.”

  And disturbing.

  “Yes. We live close to God and the earth. But we have to build high fences to keep the bigots and naysayers out.”

  And the law.

  “You can have a home here, my brother, if you so choose.”

  Eli rubbed his hands together, wanting to give the right answer. “I’m out of a job, my family doesn’t want anything to do with me and I’m one step away from jail. At this point, any refuge is welcome.”

  “Just be aware your choice will be final.” The words held a warning. “Once you are accepted into our faith and its teachings, you will always belong and there will be no going back to your old way of life.”

  And when people leave, you murder them.

  “We will feed you, give you a home and nourish you mentally and spiritually. In return you will devote your life to me and my teachings.”

  There it was. Buford thought he was God—accountable to no one but himself.

  “What do you say, Elijah?” Buford asked. “That’s what you will be called here. We use only biblical names.”

  “I really appreciate all you’ve done for me, but I’m still trying to get my bearings.” Eli chose his words with care.

  “What better way than to start a new life, a new beginning?”

  Eli hesitated, not wanting to seem too eager.

  Buford leaned back. “I have a daughter turning fifteen in a month. If you join our faith, she will become your wife.”

  Eli stared into his gray eyes and saw that Buford was absolutely serious. He felt sick.

  “I already have a wife.”

  “You will leave your old world behind and everything and everyone in it. I am the law here.”

  “I see.”

  “In our faith girls are promised for marriage when they turn fifteen, then they start to bear children to fulfill the promises in the Bible—to go forth and multiply and to serve their husband and to spread the word of the prophet.”

  “Is it legal to marry a fifteen-year-old?”

  Eli was stalling for time, to consider his responses.

  “My brother, you have a lot to learn.” Buford gave a slight smile. “I told you there is no law here except mine. We are not bound by society or its absurd rules.”

  Eli clenched his hands together. “I’m not questioning your judgment, sir, but I’m having a hard time with age fifteen. How about the dark-haired woman? She seems older.” He knew he could jeopardize the whole mission, but he felt this was a way to get information.

  Buford’s face darkened. “Jezebel is sojourning with us. She is not a member of our faith—and never question anything I tell you. That is the first thing you learn here.”

  “Yes, sir. I’m sorry. I’m just learning.”

  He had to force the words out.

  “Don’t let it happen again.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Since you’re new, I will be patient with you, Elijah. Let me explain something about our faith. Only pure-blood women are accepted as wives.”

  Eli frowned. “Pure-blood.”

  “Yes. Jezebel has dark eyes and hair and her bloodline is tainted by someone with a darker skin. That is not accepted in our faith.”

  “I have dark hair.” It was the only thing Eli could say. He was learning Buford was more of a bigot than he’d ever imagined.

  “But you have blue eyes, denoting your bloodline.”

  “I see.” But he didn’t. All he saw was an evil man controlling a handful of people with his insane ideas.

  There must have been something in his voice that Buford picked up on because he added, “Don’t worry about Jezebel, my brother. We found her wandering the streets in search of food, and we took her in and gave her a place to stay. We are not heartless. But Jezebel has no memory. She doesn’t even know her name, so we gave her one. She is happy being a servant to the wives and she asks for nothing else. When she is ready, she will leave and I will let her.”

  Eli’s mind went into overdrive with this piece of information. He found comfort in knowing that the FBI would soon raid the compound. He would make sure they knew about Jezebel. Hopefully, they could help her—if Buford hadn’t totally brainwashed her into submission.

  “What is your decision, my brother?” Buford’s gaze held his.

  “Yes. I’d like to stay here.”

  He swallowed back everything else he was feeling.

  “Good. Good.” Buford nodded, stroking his beard.

  “Bless you, my brother. My head wife, Ruth, will tell our daughter, and in a month I will marry the two of you. First, you will go through a trial of learning our faith and rules. After a week, we will have another conversation, and if I am satisfied with your sincerity, I will baptize you and give you a robe. You will denounce the evils of society and from then on you will be one of us. In the meantime you will not speak to my daughter or go near her.”

  Why the hell would I want to?

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You will find many rewards here, Elijah. After
you are baptized, we will build a house for your family.”

  “My family?”

  “Yes. We’ve needed new men for a long time. Ezra has a daughter turning fifteen in six months and she will also become your wife.”

  Good God.

  “You are a strong man and you will help to make our faith stronger.”

  Like hell.

  “Today you will continue to help chop the wood. We are preparing for a big celebration in our faith and you will get to witness it firsthand.”

  “A celebration?”

  “Yes. I will be taking my seventh wife in a few days. I’m in a state of fasting from pleasures of the flesh. I have twelve daughters and six sons. My seventh wife will bear my seventh son who will be the messiah of our faith and lead my people. This came to me in a prophecy and now it will be fulfilled.”

  Never, you bastard.

  Eli stood and held out his hand. “Congratulations, sir.” He was getting close, gaining his trust. This was good.

  Buford stood in turn and shook his hand. “You will now call me master.”

  The word stuck in Eli’s throat like a wad of chewing gum, and with supreme effort he swallowed his revulsion. “Yes, master.”

  “Good, Elijah.” Buford nodded in approval. “I could tell when I met you that you belonged with us. You will be a great asset to our group.”

  “Thank you…master.” He fought his distaste of the word. “What can I do to help with your wedding?”

  “Just do whatever is asked of you.”

  The wedding was soon, so Caroline had to be close. He’d wait and watch and be a model pupil in the faith. Because Buford was going down.

  Of that Eli was certain.

  CAROLINE KNEW she was losing her mind. Slowly, little by little, the darkness was devouring her sanity. Her spirit was weak and her strength was waning. But she would never marry that man. She would die in this black abyss first.

  Sitting cross-legged on the mattress, she leaned against the wall. Words from a hymn ran through her head. Amazing grace how sweet the sound… Over and over the song comforted, consoled and tormented her. When I’ve been there ten thousand years… How long had she been here?

  Was this how it felt to go insane, to lose one’s mind, lose touch with reality? Think about Colin, your sister, your parents, she told herself. But the hymn played louder.

  Amazing grace…

  Someone help me. Please.

  THE DAY WENT THE SAME AS the one before for Eli. He chopped, loaded and carried wood until every muscle in his body ached. Being in the woods away from the compound meant he couldn’t see what Buford was doing. And he had to know. Was he with Caroline?

  With the wagon loaded, they headed for camp. Eli helped Daniel and David unload the wood by the kitchen. He noticed Ruth go into the vegetable cellar. She was carrying a pitcher and something wrapped in cloth. He kept waiting for her to come out, but she didn’t. He wondered what she was doing in there so long. Michael called for his help and he turned to him.

  But he kept an eye on the cellar.

  Soon Ruth came out with the pitcher and cloth and went into the kitchen. She was taking food and water to someone. Someone in the cellar.

  Caroline.

  There was nothing Eli could do now. He had to wait.

  Later, at supper, Eli watched the others carefully. Buford was the only one allowed to speak—everyone was silent until he spoke to them. Even the children were quiet. The women seemed nervous, hurrying in and out of the room, serving the men vegetable soup and bread.

  Buford called the men outside for a meeting, and as Eli rose, Jezebel reached for his bowl and whispered quietly, “If you want more vegetables, they’re in the cellar. But the shelves are empty.”

  It happened so quickly Eli wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. He knew better than to approach her, however—that could be detrimental for both of them. Buford and his men went to his house, and Eli stood outside, wondering what the woman had meant.

  He bided his time, waiting for everyone to go to bed. Tonight Peter took the dogs to guard the fences from unwelcome intruders. Apparently, Ezra and Peter took turns with the nightly chore.

  Eli stared up at the stars, wishing for a shower and a shave and a steak. He’d had about all the soup he could handle. Most of all he wished he could find Caroline Whitten. After a while he rolled over and glanced around. The camp was shrouded in darkness. He rose to his feet and made his way to the vegetable cellar. The moon was his only light, so he stepped carefully and quietly.

  He drew back with a start as he rounded Buford’s house. Three people stood at the back door—Buford, Ruth and Samuel.

  “She’s resisting and she’s singing hymns. I think she’s going insane like the other one.” That was Ruth.

  The other one.

  “When I was in town today, I saw it was still in the papers and on the news. The congressman is offering a big reward for her safe return.” Samuel’s voice was low, but Eli heard it.

  There was a long pause as if they were waiting for Amos’s reply. “Kill her. She’s become a liability and unfit to bear the messiah.”

  “Yes, master,” Samuel replied.

  “Do it later tonight and we’ll dispose of her body like the others. Then we’ll begin another search for my seventh wife.”

  “Yes, master,” Samuel replied again.

  Like the others.

  How many women beside Ginny had that bastard killed? Eli pressed up against the house as Samuel strolled by. Buford and Ruth went inside. Time was running out. Eli could get past Peter and the dogs to alert the FBI, but that would take too much time. Caroline didn’t have a lot of time left, and he still didn’t know her exact location. He suspected she was in the cellar and he had to get her out—now.

  Her life depended on it.

  He slipped through the night to the cellar. Gingerly he opened the door, careful to keep it from creaking, then went down the steps into a pitch-black hole. He felt around with his hands and all he encountered was shelf after shelf of jars, the same as before.

  The shelves are empty.

  Eli remembered Jezebel’s message and began to push on the shelves. They were sturdy and strong and nothing happened. Dammit. Dammit. What the hell was the woman trying to tell him?

  The shelves are empty.

  But the shelves were full.

  He quickly searched again, then found it—an empty shelf near the bottom. He pushed and pulled, but nothing happened. What the hell did the woman mean?

  Taking a deep breath, he tried to concentrate. Think. Think. Think.

  Ruth was a short woman and Eli was six feet two. So it stood to reason that if Ruth came to feed Caroline, she had to be able to open the secret door, and the latch or mechanism would be lower than where Eli was reaching. He stooped lower, pushing and tugging until he wanted to scream with frustration.

  With both hands on the empty shelf, he squatted on the dirt floor and ran his hands along the bottom, testing every nook and cranny. As his fingers touched the left corner, the shelf moved easily.

  Air gushed into his lungs. He’d found it. Thank God. He hurriedly squeezed through the opening, hoping Caroline was inside.

  “‘Amazing grace how sweet the sound,’” a woman’s voice sang.

  “Caroline Whitten?” he asked.

  The singing stopped, but she didn’t say anything.

  “Caroline Whitten?”

  Still no response.

  “I’m Elijah Coltrane, a Texas Ranger. Please answer me.”

  “Go away. Leave me alone and stop torturing me. ‘Amazing grace…’”

  “Caroline.” He had to get her attention. “I’m working with the FBI. We’ve been searching for you.”

  “You’re not real. The FBI has been here and they didn’t find me. Now they will never find me. I will die in this darkness because I will never marry him. Never. ‘Amazing grace how sweet the sound.’”

  “I am real and I’m trying to get you out o
f here. Do you understand me?”

  Something in his voice must have reached her because she stopped singing once more. It was so dark, though, he couldn’t see a thing.

  “Where are you?” she asked. “Let me touch you, then I’ll know you’re real.”

  “Here,” he said, and walked into her.

  Her hands trembled against him as they traveled over his body, then touched his growing beard.

  She jerked back. “You’re one of them.”

  “No. I’m not.” He tried to calm her. “Feel my beard. It’s short. I’ve been searching two days for you.”

  She didn’t move, but murmured, “How long have I been here? ‘When I’ve been here ten thousand—’”

  “Stop it,” he said in a stern voice, knowing she was close to a mental breakdown.

  Her voice fluttered to a halt.

  “You’ve been missing for four days, Caroline. Touch me again and you’ll see that I’m real.”

  His request was met with total silence. “Caroline, touch me,” he repeated, trying to gain her trust. It worked. She ran her hand over his face.

  Eli caught his breath as she touched his skin, and he knew his emotions were highly charged. That was the only explanation.

  “I’ve been growing my beard to infiltrate the group to see if you were here. I’m not one of them.”

  “You’re real. Oh, my God. Oh, my God. You’re real.” Her arms went around his waist and she gripped him tightly.

  He held her for a moment with her head tucked below his chin. “We have to go. We don’t have much time. Can you handle a long walk?”

  She drew back. “I’ll do anything to get out of here.”

  “When we leave, be quiet, very quiet. Don’t make a sound. We have to run for the fence and freedom. The FBI will be waiting, but we have to make it past Buford and his clan.”

  “Okay.”

  “Do exactly what I tell you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Caroline, do you understand me?” Eli asked, not sure if she was comprehending him or not. “Say something beside okay.”

  “Yes. I understand you. You’re a Texas Ranger and you’re taking me out of here. And we have to be quiet.”