by Dan Dowhal
This resolve calms the anxieties that have been jostling through his thoughts like ravens flocking at a garbage dump and allows him to snatch some sleep. When he awakens, dawn is declaring itself through the dirty curtains of the motel room window. On the next bed, Abraham snores lightly. Evidently he, too, finally succumbed to sleep in the dregs of the night.
Shane rouses the teenager, strong-arming him into the shower to wash off months’ worth of grime and perspiration. He tells Abraham this is so he’ll look his best when meeting his sweetheart, Zaylie, but it is just as true that Shane can’t bear to smell his companion’s body odour anymore. Afterward, they both study the fledgling beard that has grown on Abraham’s cheek. Even after prolonged growth, the whiskers are sparse and downy. However, by mutual consent, they are spared execution.
“Ready or not, you’re an adult now, Abe,” Shane comments. “Might as well start looking the part.”
The youth’s clothes, however, present a problem. Shane is all for throwing the badly soiled, foul-smelling garments away, until it occurs to him Abraham will need to be as inconspicuous as possible when sneaking into Holy Waters. They compromise by buying a change of clothes at a roadside mall, then running Abraham’s shirt and pants through the wash at a local laundromat.
They plan their rescue mission for early afternoon, after the women return to the fields from their midday meal. Plumbing Abraham’s memory, they locate Holy Waters on a road map and set out on the Indian with a roar.
As they turn off the main highway and head toward their destination, the countryside starts to look familiar, and Shane realizes this is the detour he and Vern took during their recent road trip to Albuquerque. Sure enough, as they pass the tiny cemetery that was a point of contention during their travelling game, Shane finds himself murmuring, “Bury your horses!”
They reach Holy Waters, and Abraham guides them around the property’s split-rail fence to a spot on the road offering an elevated view of the garden plots where Zaylie toils. The location is several hundred yards away, but the women are clearly distinguishable amidst the rows of plants. Even in the warm spring weather they are all wearing bonnets and long-sleeved dresses that reach to the ground.
“I see her!” Abraham exclaims, squeezing Shane’s arm in his excitement. He tries to point Zaylie out, but to Shane the tiny, amply-dressed figures all look alike.
“All right, Abe. This is it. You’re going in alone, and I’ll be waiting here with the engine running. You won’t likely have a lot of time before the men are onto you, so don’t waste it giving her your life story, okay? Do what it takes to convince her to come with you, then get the heck out. You guys can work out any fine details later, when you’re by yourselves.”
“What if … what if she won’t come with me?”
“Yeah, Abe, I didn’t want to be the one to bring that up. There’s no guarantee that she will want to leave, so you’d better be prepared to come hightailing back here alone … well, except for the bunch of angry men who’ll likely be on your heels.” He reads Abraham’s uncertainty and places a reassuring hand on the youth’s shoulder. “Look, buddy, if you meant as much to her as you say you did, you’ve got a good shot. But it’ll be a shock for her to see you, and you’ll be asking her to decide her whole future on the spot … to leave behind the only home she’s ever known.”
Shane recollects the many times he’s been called into a manager’s office to be told he’s been traded. “Just tell her you know it’s a shock, but she’s getting a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to be with a man that really wants her, and to have better prospects for the long term. Oh, hell, Abe, just tell her you love her and she’s all you’ve been thinking about.”
Abraham nods and slips through the fence as Shane anxiously watches his progress. Initially Abraham stays hidden, slipping behind trees and hillocks, but eventually he needs to cross a large, open field. He pauses behind a tree, and for a moment Shane thinks Abraham has lost his nerve, but then he picks up a fallen log, slings it over his shoulder, and strolls nonchalantly over toward the women.
“Nice touch,” Shane chuckles, although he feels his pulse quicken with suspense. Witnessing the drama unfold from a distance is like watching a scene in a silent movie. Abraham enters the garden area, and the first two women he passes take no notice. A third woman, more stout than the others, is on her knees weeding. She raises her head as the youth goes past, and even from a quarter mile away, Shane can see her shock of recognition. The woman gets up and runs to one of her fellows, gesticulating excitedly. They confer briefly, then the second woman leaves as quickly as her long skirts will allow.
“Here we go,” Shane says to himself. “C’mon, Abe, clock’s running.”
Abraham reaches a girl hoeing amidst the plants, and the two young people stand there looking at one another. Then, in a promising development, log and hoe are tossed aside, and the couple embrace. However, after Abraham’s overture, it is evident Zaylie has things to say about the proposal, as her hands start to wave wildly in the air. The boy reaches for the girl’s arm, but the girl shakes him off. The debate continues.
The stout woman who first recognized Abraham approaches and begins to berate him. Zaylie, however, turns and argues with the woman, seemingly telling her to mind her own business. Shane wonders if the stout woman isn’t perhaps one of the other wives with whom Zaylie now lives, and if so, whether there is bad blood between them.
Meanwhile, the woman dispatched for help reaches a large outbuilding. Soon, six men come spilling out, heading in the direction of Abraham. To complete the movie-cliché scene, some are carrying pitchforks and long-handled shovels. Fortunately, the bearded man in the lead appears to be elderly and is not making fast progress. Apparently, protocol prevents the younger men from passing him and hastening ahead.
“It’s now or never, Abe,” Shane whispers. This is as nerve-wracking as watching the opposing team on a power play during overtime in the playoffs.
Abraham has resumed pleading with Zaylie, despite the stout woman’s interference, but now he spots the arriving reinforcements. Finally, with less than fifty yards remaining between himself and the posse, who are now shouting and waving their makeshift weapons, he steps forward and flings Zaylie over his shoulder. The stout woman tries to intervene, but Abraham pushes her away, causing her to stumble backward and sit down hard on the ground. Abraham turns and runs back toward Shane, as Zaylie shouts and pounds on his back.
“Oh, way to go, kid,” Shane sighs, going over to fire up the motorcycle. “You’ve already got petty larceny, grand theft auto, and homicide on your resumé — why not add kidnapping?” With his load, Abraham moves slower than the posse, who are closing ground. As Abraham reaches the final slope leading up to the road, two of the younger men abandon protocol to dash past the elder in an attempt to catch the abductor. Capitalizing on the high ground, Abraham reels around, using Zaylie’s torso to knock down one pursuer, then he kicks the other downhill.
“Here, catch!” a red-faced Abraham pants, flinging his payload over the fence to Shane before clambering through the rails himself.
Holding Zaylie in his arms, Shane gets his first close look at the object of affection. Her bonnet has flown off during the flight, and she is bareheaded. Her strawberry-blond hair is rolled back in a bun, and she has a pretty, tapered, freckled face and large, intelligent blue eyes, which at the moment pierce Shane with a look of indignation. Despite her young age and diminutive size, her shape is decidedly womanly, and Shane can see why a dirty old man would covet her.
There is no time for introductions or pleasantries. Shane dumps Zaylie into the sidecar and leaps into the driver’s seat. He begins pulling forward as Abraham closes the last few feet. As soon as the teen dives in on top of the girl, Shane cranks the Indian’s throttle. They take off with the prerequisite cloud of dust just as the pursuers come through the fence. One angrily tosses a shovel after them, but it thuds harmlessly in their wake.
Shane and Abraham�
�s immediate troubles are not over, however. Squeezed into the bottom of the sidecar, Zaylie squirms and thrashes about violently. Her curses are loud enough to be heard even over the engine’s roar and the rushing wind, leading Shane to wonder how a girl who has supposedly led a sheltered life has managed to accumulate such a rich portfolio of profanities. Poor Abraham looks like he’s riding a bucking bronco as he is bounced and jerked about forcefully. Eventually Zaylie works a leg free and starts kicking at Shane, causing the Indian to swerve across the road.
Fearing for everybody’s safety, Shane looks for a place to pull over. Up ahead, he spots the now familiar little private cemetery. “Bury your horses,” he mutters and turns into its driveway. As soon as the motorcycle comes to a stop, Zaylie sends Abraham tumbling onto the gravel. The young woman climbs out and looms over him, shaking her fist.
“How dare you, Abraham Johnson? I ain’t some sack of taters to be picked up and carried over your shoulder!”
Abraham gets to his feet and approaches his sweetheart, though he wisely keeps some separation between them. “Zaylie, darlin’, please. I didn’t have time to argue with you. The menfolk were comin’ and you know darn well what they woulda done to me.”
“That still don’t give you the right to do what you done!”
Shane speaks up. “You’re right, Zaylie. He shouldn’t have forced you. If you insist on going back, we’ll turn around right now and drop you off.”
Both boy and girl shoot him dirty looks. “And who, sir, are you?” Zaylie demands.
“My name’s Shane. Nice to meet you. I’m just a buddy of Abe’s. I’m going to take him to meet another friend of mine … and set him up in a new job as a shepherd.”
Zaylie turns back to Abraham. “That’s the shepherding you was tellin’ me about, I reckon, but you was mighty short on details.”
“That’s ’cause I ain’t got no details yet.”
“And you’re just gonna follow this fella on blind faith, and ’spect me to come along, too?”
Abraham’s face tightens. “If you knew what I’ve been through … well, you’d know blind faith is just about all I got goin’ for me.”
“Well, it ain’t been no picnic for me, neither, Abraham Johnson. You think I wanted to marry Jebediah Carson? You think I wanted him to take me to his bed?” She starts to weep. “The older wives, they came and held me down just so he could have his way with me.”
Abraham stands with his arms dangling at his sides, paralyzed by Zaylie’s tears and the image of her rape. Shane surreptitiously signals to the youth that he should comfort her. Abraham nods, then steps in to take his sweetheart in his arms.
“Why didn’t ya come back for me sooner?” she sobs.
“I tried. I snuck back a buncha times, but I guess they figured I would, ’cause a bunch of ’em was always waitin’. They’d whup me, but I kept comin’ back. I was cold and starvin’, but I didn’t care. You was all I could think about. Then they tol’ me it was too late, that you’d done gone and married Jebediah and it weren’t no use … that you said to tell me you was a married woman now and didn’t want me no more. I didn’t believe them, Zaylie, but then they gave me this.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a plain-looking brass ring. “Nobody else knew I’d gave you a pledging ring. We agreed we weren’t gonna declare till you was eighteen, so we wouldn’t need your folks’ okay.”
She takes the ring from him and rotates it slowly between her fingers. “They done stole that from me. The first coupla weeks I kept a travellin’ bag hidden under my bed, hopin’ you would come back for me. I invented every excuse I could think of to put off the weddin’. Then my pa found the bag and beat the livin’ tar out of me. I kept the ring in that little heart-shaped box you carved for me … the one with both our initials, remember?” Abraham nods with a sad smile. “I guess they figured out easy nuff who it was from.”
“You can wear it now, though. Put it on, Zaylie.”
“Abraham Johnson! What kind of a girl do you take me for? For better or worse — and believe you me, it’s been nothin’ but the worse — I’m a married woman now. I ain’t gonna go a-sinnin’ … no matter how much I hate my husband.”
“But that’s what I was trying to tell you. You ain’t married. It ain’t legal.”
“I know I was shy of my eighteenth birthday when we tied the knot, but my folks gave Jebediah their say-so, so I only had to be sixteen. You very well know our ways, Abraham.”
“Yeah, I know our ways and have the bruises to prove it. Seems to me, Zaylie, the bride should have to give her say-so, too. But that’s not the point. Jebediah can’t marry you, not legal like, on account of polly … polly … aw, heck, you explain it to her, Shane.”
“Polygamy. Having more than one wife. It’s against the law in the good ol’ U.S. of A. Most countries, actually.”
“But it’s sanctioned in the Book of Mormon.”
“Yeah, well, the Bible also says we should put witches to death, but the government doesn’t look too kindly on that, either. Plain and simple, Zaylie, not only is your marriage invalid, but I’m guessing you could get randy old Jebediah in some serious hot water if you took it to the authorities. Maybe even send him to prison.”
“I ain’t married?”
“That’s what I’m trying to say!” Abraham cries. “Now will you put on the ring?”
“Just hold on a minute, Abraham. Assumin’ this fella here ain’t makin’ the whole thing up, it’s still not that cut and dried.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve just spent the last coupla months being treated like some man’s slave. I prayed every night for deliverance and maybe … maybe the good Lord listened to me. But from now on, I ain’t gonna be no man’s chattel, and that’s that. Ain’t no feller’s ever going to tell me what to do or raise his hand against me, d’ya hear?”
“If things don’t work out, I know a rattlesnake ranch that would love to have you,” Shane jokes.
Zaylie spins to face him. “Look, Mister Shane, it may very well turn out that I owe you some thanks, and, if that’s so, then I’ll say I’m sorry in advance. But right now, if it ain’t too much trouble, I wonder if you could give me and Abraham a little privacy. We still got some things we have to figure out.”
Shane raises his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, no problem. I’ll just be over here hobnobbing with the dead people.” He looks from the gangly, uncertain boy to the plucky little firebrand of a girl and smiles. Assuming they can reconcile, he’s pretty sure he knows which one is going to be the sheep and which the shepherd.
Wandering among the small cluster of headstones, it doesn’t take long for Shane to glean the story of the people buried there. As he surmised on the first visit with Vern, it is a family plot going back several generations. He reads the inscriptions and dates and follows the thread to the most ostentatious and most recent of the monuments, the one that originally caught Vern’s attention when they drove by. Shane goes to check it out, vaguely remembering that the owner’s passing had been recent. The inscription confirms that the death date was just four years ago, at the less-than-ripe age of forty-three.
As he reads the name, Mackenna Black III, something clicks in Shane’s memory. If this was one of his beloved movies, the Basque shepherd Beñat’s voice would now be echoing in voice-over: “Mack Black, like his father and grandfather, an easy name to remember.”
“Holy shit!” Shane shouts, garnering a dirty look from Zaylie, who is still laying down the law for Abraham in the parking area. Shane takes the hint, and the rush of thoughts continues inside his head. This is the bastard blackmailing Beñat. If he’s dead, that means the little sheep-dipper is in the clear. Hell, if there’s someone else to watch the herd, he doesn’t even have to stay in the valley anymore. And then Shane’s knees weaken, and he is forced to sit down hard on the stone dais. He is overcome with a dizzying sense of déjà vu, as if powerful and unfathomable cosmic forces have been channelled through him — like
the dancing electrical arcs of some Hollywood Tesla machine — to manipulate causality in the physical universe. When his thoughts rebalance, he feels strangely at peace.
Abraham is waving him over now. Shane joins the couple, curious to know what they have decided. Zaylie, unsurprisingly, is full of questions.
“This valley, does it got water?”
Shane nods. “There’s a well, and a stream, too … it’s pretty lush.”
“So you reckon Abraham and I could grow our own vegetables?”
“You bet.”
“And we’re gonna have a stake in the flock? Our very own sheep?”
“That’s my understanding. You can ask Beñat about numbers.”
“You can count on that. Okay, now let’s talk ’bout living arrangements. Assumin’ this polygamy thing checks out, until Abraham and I are married, I’m gonna need my own room.”
Shane laughs, remembering his astonishment upon seeing the abandoned pueblo village. “It’s a bit of a fixer-upper, but you can have your own town, if that’s what you want.”
THIRTY-TWO
Before heading to Beñat’s valley, the threesome detours to Albuquerque to supply proof to Zaylie that her polygamous marriage to Jebediah Carson is illegitimate. Because of his own status, Shane is reluctant to visit the police, and is relieved that the girl is willing to accept the authority of the public library once Shane explains the institution’s purpose. The female librarian who politely answers their legal query studies Zaylie’s clothes and puts two and two together. Zaylie is taken aside for a conference, and while the two whisper earnestly, as much as he would love to see the Holy Waters elder get some worldly retribution, Shane worries the police may get involved after all.
Therefore, he is relieved when Zaylie rejoins them and suggests they leave. “That library gal tol’ me the same thing you did,” she informs them as they exit onto the street. “What Jebediah done is wrong, and he could go to jail for it … maybe. It would depend on how all the lawyerin’ works out. She also said I could think about it if’n I didn’t want to go to the police right away … said somethin’ about some statue that don’t have no limitations for a buncha years, but I didn’t quite make no sense of it. Anyway, I’m thinkin’ I’ll just let it sit for a spell and get on with my life.”