Righteous04 - The Blessed and the Damned Read Online Free PDF Page A

clues: a bearded man buying a dozen axes at a hardware store in Blanding. Two men in a new Ford F-150 truck hauling propane canisters and tents through Hanksville. They’d started a fight with a man at a gas station in Hanksville, then sped south on Highway 95 when someone called the highway patrol. The state troopers came, but the men had disappeared somewhere before the junction with 276.
    “How do you find the camp?” he asked. Eliza retrieved the chair, and they helped her down.
    “I don’t know. Taylor Junior sent two men—Aaron Young and Eric Froud—to get me. I threatened them with the gun, just like I did to you that time. They said something about Dark Canyon, but that’s all I know.”
    “When was this?”
    “Six months ago. I haven’t seen them since.”
    Six months. So they might have moved. Except he didn’t think so. His last clue had come from a Navajo family selling turquoise and silver jewelry at a rest stop not far from the turnoff into Natural Bridges National Monument, and that was only two days ago. One of the Navajo women said she’d seen a traditionally dressed polygamist family—Last Dazers, the woman called them—loading sacks of rice into a pickup truck. They were dirty, like they’d been somewhere without running water.
    “How many people are there?” he asked.
    “I don’t know. Some men. Also women and children. Please, Jacob. That’s all I know.”
    He believed her. His awful work done, he said, “I’m sorry, Sister Charity. That’s not me, you have to know that. I wanted you to tell me without threats.”
    “What are you saying, that it wasn’t real? You made those things up?”
    Jacob looked away, unable to face the look on Charity’s face, the growing sense of betrayal. He turned to Eliza. “Let’s go.”
    “Of course,” Charity said. “You got what you came for. All the rest of it was a lie. Get in your car, drive home. You did your duty. Who cares if I rot out here?”
    Jacob and Eliza went back to the car and popped the trunk. They returned carrying boxes.
    Charity stared. “What are you doing? Don’t bring that in here. I don’t want it, whatever it is.”
    He opened the box and removed two canned hams, then showed her that the second box was full of apples. They returned to the trunk, and this time brought back powdered milk, dried and canned beans, and jars of peaches, green beans, and tomatoes.
    “Your father sent this?” Charity asked, incredulous.
    “It’s not from Blister Creek,” Eliza said. “You can thank your brothers and sisters in Zarahemla.”
    “Zarahemla? Why would they do that? I’ve never even been there.”
    “One word from Jacob and they threw open their larders.”
    Jacob said, “I told you, we take care of our own. We don’t abandon our lost sheep for the wolves.”
    Charity watched in silence.
    Jacob and Eliza hefted down a fresh propane tank and set it next to her grill. They brought blankets and clean clothing. Eliza stopped to set a neatly-folded, handmade quilt on Charity’s lap. The woman reached out a finger and ran it along the seam, twisted the yarn tassel between her fingers. When she looked up, her face was anguished. “Why are you doing this? Can’t you just leave me alone?”
    “Come home with us,” Eliza said. She reached out a hand, but the woman brushed it away.
    Meanwhile, Jacob hauled out plastic five-gallon jugs of drinking water and stacked them next to the motor home. He covered them with a plastic tarp, which he weighted down with stones.
    Against Charity’s protests, they entered her Winnebago. It smelled stale, like unwashed clothing and body odor. They spent a few minutes collecting rubbish, then took out the dirty and torn clothing in armfuls. After they’d loaded it into the trunk of the car, they returned.
    “Is there anything else you need?”
    “You’re a fool, Jacob Christianson. You know that?”
    “Maybe I am. What else can we do for you?”
    She looked down at her hands, still