Lena Jones 02 - Desert Wives

face.”
    “It was the edge of my hand, not my fist. But yeah, you’re right. Maybe if I hadn’t smashed Earl Graff’s nose this wouldn’t have happened.”
    We fell silent again, and after a while, saw several women carrying babies climb into a van that pulled into Prophet’s Park. Among them I recognized Rosalinda, Earl’s wife, and a couple of Prophet Solomon’s widows. All had given birth since I’d arrived in the compound.
    “You don’t mean to tell me Earl’s making Rosalinda go shopping already, do you? The poor girl just had her baby only a few days ago!”
    Saul grunted. “That trip’s about more important things than groceries, Lena. Brother Vernon’s taking the new mothers to sign up for welfare.”
    “You’re kidding.”
    “I’m not kidding. According to the law, they’re unmarried, remember? That makes them eligible for Aid to Dependent Children, or whatever it’s called these days. A couple of the older women there, they gave birth to Downs Syndrome babies, and their husbands are all excited. Downs kids bring more money, because not only does the mom get the ADC, she gets extra benefits because of their medical problems. Now that Davis is going to let these folks keep more of their welfare checks, a Downs baby is great news for the dads.”
    I felt revolted at this crass commercialization of tragedy, and told him so.
    “That’s the way it is here, Lena. You know Hanna, the gal with the bad limp? She’s one of the Arizona contingent. She had her baby this morning while you were gone, and if it lives, she’ll go to the county seat in Plattville next week to apply for her benefits. Her baby will get extra money, too.”
    I frowned. “What do you mean, if the baby lives?”
    “None of her others did. She’s had about six of them, I think, and all died right after birth. I hear this one’s got some real serious problems, too. The Circle of Elders was over there at the clinic all morning praying over it.”
    I didn’t even bother asking why Hanna and the baby hadn’t been taken to the hospital. After more than a week in Purity, I knew why. Would proper medical care help the poor thing?
    The van drove off but we continued sitting there until I heard a rumbling noise. I looked up at the sky and saw that masses of dirty-looking clouds had gathered. But they didn’t appear dark enough yet for thunder.
    “Saul, was that your stomach?”
    He grinned. “Nobody nukes Ramen like you do, wife.”
    After we’d eaten, Ruby asked me to help with the dishes. I almost refused, but then I saw the expression on her face.
    “I’m so sorry, Sister Lena,” she finally said, as I dried the three forks and glasses she’d taken so long to wash. “I didn’t mean to tell, really I didn’t, but Brother Earl is pretty persuasive.” Her eyes lowered to her wrist, bare now since she’d rolled back her sleeve to wash the dishes. I saw a man-sized bruise.
    I clenched my fist. “It’s all right, Ruby. I know what you’re up against.”
    “No, you don’t.” She said little more.
    The next morning I rose to a new resolve. After dressing hurriedly and pouring cereal for three, I headed out the door toward Davis Royal’s house.
    A bewildered Sissy Royal, overcome by my insistence, led me to his office. As soon as she shut the door behind us, I asked him the question.
    “Brother Davis, will you marry me?”

Chapter 16
    “Why Sister Lena, I didn’t know you cared,” Davis said, a bemused smile on his handsome face. “May I ask what brought about this sudden declaration of love?”
    I sat down on the big leather sofa. “It’s not really a declaration of love. It’s just that…”
    My voice trailed off. Davis wasn’t stupid. To make him believe my wild tale, it needed to smack of reality, and the only way to do that was to tell as much truth as possible. But how much? I obviously couldn’t tell him everything, that during the long, fearful night I’d come to the realization that to save Rebecca, I’d screw the devil himself. Not that Prophet Davis was the devil. Far from it. From what I had observed, he was the only polygamist who had shown a shred of compassion toward women. He certainly didn’t have any thirteen-year-old “wives,” and to his credit, had ordered the practice halted.
    Start with the truth, then. I took a big breath. “Brother Davis, I’m a desperate woman.” No lie there.
    He lifted one blond eyebrow. Damn, the devil was good-looking. “Desperate? How