Lena Jones 02 - Desert Wives

marriages around at Purity begin with love, especially on the woman’s side.”
    His hand closed tightly around mine. “Oh, yes, I am well aware it’s panic and nothing else which brought you to me with your generous offer, but that doesn’t mean I don’t take your offer seriously. There’s good sense in your desires, both the good sense of a woman’s natural need for a man, and the good sense of a woman who with all her problems still desires to serve God. Admirable, truly admirable.”
    While one hand continued to clasp mine, the other slid slowly up my arm and caressed my shoulder in a soft, circular motion. When he drew me toward him, my body leaned forward to meet his. God help me, at that particular moment, I wasn’t acting.
    His lips, just before they closed on mine, whispered, “Sister Lena, eagles mate with eagles, not with mice.”
    Only half-acting, I reached toward him.
    “Brother Davis! Brother Davis!” Sissy’s insistent voice and loud bangs on the office door made us both jump.
    Davis drew back but didn’t let go of my hand. “I am counseling Sister Lena, wife,” he called. “Please do not disturb me.”
    “But Brother Davis, the Circle of Elders is here,” she called. “They need to see you right away! Something about Brother Saul and Sister Lena!”
    Davis rose, pulling me up with him. “I can imagine what they want to tell me, can’t you, Sister Lena?”
    I pressed against him, inhaling his scent. It had been a long time since I’d been with a man.
    “Yes, Brother Davis,” I whispered. “I can.”
    When Davis announced our engagement, the Circle didn’t like it, but most of them knew better than to argue with the compound’s new prophet.
    Earl Graff scowled, and I noted happily that his eyes were blacker than mine. And was it my imagination, or did he sport scratches on his face, too? I didn’t remember putting them there. Maybe my nails needed trimming.
    “You can’t be serious, Brother Davis!” Graff protested, ignoring the warning whispers of the other men. “The woman is…she’s…”
    “Watch what you say about my intended wife,” Davis warned. “She is dear to me and therefore must be dear to you. Do I need to remind you that you brought your problems with her upon yourself? Brother Graff, Purity’s women are to be cherished, not struck.”
    “But…”
    “Brother Graff, have you returned Sister Cynthia to her mother?”
    “No, I…”
    “Then do so immediately.”
    “But the Circle of Elders performed the marriage ceremony last night!
Sister Cynthia is now my wife!
”
    Davis dropped his arm from around my waist and took a step toward Earl. He towered over the piggy man by at least eight inches, and it was gratifying to see the little thug shrink back. Not gratifying enough, however, to keep the image of the terrified Cynthia out of my mind. What had that monster done to her?
    Davis grabbed Graff by the throat. “Then you disobeyed the direct order I gave you. Why did you do that?”
    Earl gagged and choked until Davis loosened his grip slightly. “I…I convened the Circle of Elders, and we decided that since Prophet Solomon promised her to me, I might as well go ahead and marry her.”
    Davis’s eyes narrowed. “That prophet is dead. I, as the new prophet, hereby annul your marriage and demand that you release that girl to her mother. To make certain you follow my orders this time, I’m returning to your house with you, and I’ll escort Cynthia back to her mother’s myself. Woe be to you, Brother Earl, if Sister Cynthia has one mark upon her person.”
    “But she…I had to…She…”
    Without another word, Davis released his hand from around Earl’s throat and grabbed his collar. Half shoving, half pulling, he hustled the cowering man out the door and toward his house. We all ran after them, across the dirt circle to the Arizona side, and up the stairs of the tar-papered hovel Earl called home. The front door, barely attached to its hinges, flew open with one shove of Davis’s huge hand.
    “Sister Cynthia!” Davis bellowed, as unkempt children scattered everywhere. Three very pregnant women stared at us, wiping their hands on their aprons. “Sister Cynthia. It’s Davis Royal! I’m here to take you home!”
    One of Earl’s wives said nervously, “Our new sister wife isn’t feeling well this morning, Brother Davis.”
    Another wife, a tall, sharp-featured woman who’d hung back in the doorway of the kitchen, threw a look of utter