Gone to Glory Page 14

  A minor eruption revealed a pair of muddy worn-out minibuses parked nearby. Their rust spots, as encompassing as camouflage, had been splattered with paint as if to prevent further disintegration.

  The ground trembled beneath his feet. Steam hissed from the earth, bringing with it a sulfuric stench.

  He went back to the Jeep and honked the horn to announce himself. A moment later three men, dressed in yellow slickers and rain hats, emerged from the building.

  Violence and murder weren’t uncommon among Utah’s polygamist cults, Traveler reminded himself. But he left his .45 in the glove compartment just the same, pulled up the collar of his coat, and stepped forward to meet them. The rain on his face felt gritty.

  “I’m looking for Zeke Eldredge,” he said.

  Instead of answering, the trio formed a half circle around him and walked him inside. There, in a large room that housed an open mine shaft the size of a subway tunnel, another three men were waiting. They wore baggy black suits and the full beards that Mormon deacons favored a century ago.

  When the first three shed their slickers, more black suits and beards were revealed. Only one man stood out. His head was shaved and so was his face.

  “I am the Shepherd,” he said. “Nonbelievers know me as Zeke Eldredge.”

  He was a short, squat man, all muscle, with a nose crooked enough to have been broken several times. His black eyes looked incapable of surprise. He reminded Traveler of a miner or a boxer, anything but a preacher.

  “Explain yourself,” he said.

  Traveler saw no reason to be evasive. He told them who he was and that he was looking into the murder of Pepper Dalton’s sister, Priscilla.

  “I know you,” Eldredge responded. “You represent the devil. Only he would be capable of the sin of fratricide.”

  “I represent Mr. Dalton,” Traveler said, stretching the point.

  “The good book tells us, ‘Woe unto the murderer who deliberately killeth, for he shall die,’” Eldredge said.

  He had the cadence and tone of those evangelists who give sharp, dangerous edges to their words. His followers, who’d formed a ring around Traveler, nodded as one. Hatred showed openly on their faces. If it came to a fight, Traveler knew he would have to take out Eldredge first. After that, he might have a chance despite the five-to-one odds.

  “And if Pepper didn’t kill his sister,” Traveler said. “What then?”

  Eldredge pointed a finger toward the ground beneath his feet. “I knew, I predicted that they would send someone like you among us. ‘The Flock of Zion will be sorely tested,’ I told my flock. ‘The usurpers in Salt Lake want an end to us, those who hear and abide by the true words of God. They will send the devil’s disciple to bring us down.’”

  Traveler shivered as a sudden trickle of moisture ran out of his hair and down the back of his neck. The only heat in the large room came from coal burning in a pit that had been scooped in the earthen floor. Smoke from it rose straight up and disappeared through cracks in the warped clapboard siding.

  Eldredge’s finger rose up to point at Traveler. “Do you deny my revelation?” he demanded.

  Traveler said nothing.

  Eldredge reached into a baggy coat pocket and brought out a battered copy of a leather-bound book the size of a paperback. A limp paper marker hung down its spine.

  “The Book of Mormon.” He placed the volume in the palm of his left hand and covered it with his right like someone about to swear an oath. His eyes closed. “I feel the words of God. I see them burning inside my head. If ye are not the sheep of the good shepherd, of what fold are ye? Behold, I say unto you, that the devil is your shepherd, and ye are of his fold.’”

  From outside came the sound of steam venting from the earth.

  “Your master calls,” Eldredge said, his dark eyes now fixed on Traveler’s face. “He opens the earth to send us a message from hell.”

  Traveler said, “I was told that Glory caught fire around the turn of the century. That miners hit a gas pocket when they were trying to open up a new shaft.”

  “The question is, who put that pocket there? God or the devil?”

  “I leave that to philosophers like yourself,” Traveler answered. “Or should I say geologists?”

  “You come forearmed, I see.”

  “My job is gathering information.”

  “Here’s more for you, then. I didn’t kill my wife. She was dear to me, as all of them are.”

  “Even if I grant you that,” Traveler said, “there’s still the question of background. Would a geologist bury himself in a mine for theological reasons?”

  Eldredge spread his arms and pivoted until he was facing the mine shaft. “Hear me, Lord,” he said, his voice rising, “who is better qualified than a geologist to fight the devil in this place?”

  His words echoed down the shaft. Once they’d subsided, Traveler thought he heard something else. Like the soft murmur of a prayer.

  “I can’t do my job unless I know more about Priscilla Dalton,” Traveler said.

  “Her name was Eldredge, not Dalton.” Eldredge ran a hand over the top of his head and along his jawline. “I’m in mourning. You can see that for yourself. I have shorn myself, stripped away that which makes me a member of the flock. Only when my hair and beard grow back will God again be able to recognize me.”

  “Did your wife have any enemies?”

  “We all have one enemy. He who waits for us in the pit.” Eldredge gestured toward the tunnel mouth. “He’s waiting there now, to rob us of our souls.”

  “Do you know anyone of flesh and blood who’d want to kill her?” Traveler amended.

  The man laughed, a short barklike sound that echoed hollowly. “I’m no fool. I know what it looks like to outsiders. Only two stand to gain by her death. Myself and Pepper Dalton. We both want Glory. Me for God’s uses, he for money.”

  His hands squeezed The Book of Mormon until they and it shook. Then he used the marker to open the book and find his place. “‘Before ye seek for riches, seek ye the kingdom of God.’ Dalton stands convicted by God’s word.”

  “A court will need something more.”

  “We have no need of your law here. We live by God’s word. We fight His battles daily.”

  “Not everyone would agree with you.”

  Eldredge dropped the book into his pocket. “I know what they say about us. That we take wives only to satisfy our lust. But we do God’s bidding. We follow His truth on polygamy as it was spoken to the prophet Joseph Smith in the beginning. ‘For behold, I reveal unto you a new and everlasting covenant; and if ye abide not that covenant, then are ye damned; for no one can reject this covenant and be permitted to enter into my glory.’ Do you understand me now? There is no time limit on everlasting. The Mormon Church is damned for turning its back on its own prophet. I say martyrdom here and now is better than giving in to heathen law. That’s why we intend to make our stand in Glory.”

  He stepped to the tunnel mouth and cupped hands around his mouth. “Come, my children. Join us.”

  Traveler heard what sounded like a whispered chorus of “Amen.” Followed by the sound of footsteps.

  A moment later women and children began emerging from the mine. Soot-blackened as they were, they reminded him of coal miners he’d seen pictured in history books. The only thing lacking was picks and shovels and lighted helmets.

  He counted twenty-one women and about as many children. If the Flock of Zion believed in equal shares, six men divided into twenty-one came out to three-point-five wives apiece.

  The women and children wore ragtag clothes. Odds and ends of material that had been stitched together into shapeless garments. The Flock was as much in need of money as Pepper Dalton.

  They crowded around the fire pit. Traveler found himself hemmed in next to the flames. Eldredge faced him from the other side
of the fire. There was silence. Not so much as a sniffle from the children. Only hostile stares.

  “It might be better if we spoke alone somewhere,” Traveler said.

  “You’re not listening to me,” Eldredge replied. The strength of his voice caused the flames to flicker. “A flock moves as one. We of the Flock of Zion are one being. What is said to one is said to all.”

  “Where were you and Priscilla Dalton married?”

  “You disappoint me, Brother Traveler. That’s such an obvious trap.”

  Shaking his head, Eldredge began moving among his followers. He laid hands upon them as he went. The touch brought a glow to the women’s eyes.

  After making the circuit, he came to rest beside Traveler. The crowd rearranged itself so that six women stood out from the others.

  “I quote from the good book. ‘Seven women shall take hold of one man, saying: we will eat our own bread, and wear our own apparel; only let us be called by thy name to take away our reproach.’ These six are also my wives. Do you ask me where they were married?”

  So much for equality, Traveler thought. Seven from twenty-one left fourteen. Fourteen women divided by the remaining five men worked out to fewer than three wives apiece.

  “Don’t bother answering,” Eldredge went on. “I know what you’re after. If I myself performed the marriage ceremony with Priscilla, then our marriage is void under Gentile law. And if that’s so, I cannot inherit her half of Glory.”

  His head swung from side to side, picking up speed until speech stopped it. “We were married by a justice of the peace in Nevada. I have the paper to prove it.”

  He retrieved The Book of Mormon from his pocket. “I use it as my marker.”

  With a flourish he removed the limp folded paper and held it out. When Traveler reached for it, the man snatched it back and continued. “The question now is whether or not polygamy—or bigamy, as the likes of you would see it—invalidates this marriage.”

  He replaced the marker in the book. “There are no other papers like this one, I assure you. That makes me an adulterer by your law, but still Priscilla’s rightful heir. Half of Glory belongs to me. To my flock. Think of it. The name of this place is no accident. God caused it to be named Glory. Any man who would put a price on it, the way Pepper Dalton has done, is the devil incarnate.”

  “Would the devil allow himself to be arrested for murder?” Traveler asked.

  Eldredge leaned forward, teetering on tiptoe momentarily before poking a finger against Traveler’s chest to catch his balance. “God won’t be mocked, not in the presence of His flock, not by the likes of you. We don’t care how big or tough you are. So was Goliath. Look what happened to him.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “From God, not me.”

  Traveler took a deep breath. Surrounded as he was, confrontation was the last thing he wanted. “I didn’t mean to sound sacrilegious.”

  Eldredge dropped back on his heels. “I’m the one who should apologize. Ever since I heard about Priscilla, guilt has been with me. There is no other word for it. I am responsible for her death.”

  Traveler tensed. If the man confessed, Traveler wouldn’t be allowed out of there, not alive anyway.

  From deep underground came the sound of a muffled explosion. The earth shook, hard enough to start a few of the women praying aloud. Eldredge lost his balance and tumbled against Traveler. A blast of heat surged from the tunnel mouth, followed by a puff of black smoke.

  “His hunger grows,” Eldredge said, righting himself. He gestured toward the mine shaft.

  More likely another gas pocket, Traveler answered to himself.

  “Women are God’s vessels,” Eldredge went on. “And man’s, to carry his children. They cook and sew and rear the young and obey their husbands. That is their duty. That is the only reason God put them here on earth. But Priscilla, rest her soul, had eaten the forbidden fruit of knowledge before I met her. She’d gone to the university looking for answers.”

  His teeth clenched; his eyes glared. “Women must look to heaven for their rewards. Here on earth they must be content with necessities only.”

  He laid a hand on Traveler’s arm. “Come, Brother Traveler. Enough of this. Prove that you aren’t our enemy. Do battle with us here and now.”

  Gently but firmly, he steered Traveler through the crowd and toward the opening in the earth. As they stepped inside, Traveler noticed teethlike stalactites hanging from the ceiling. They gnawed on the reflected firelight.

  Traveler glanced over his shoulder to see the others falling in behind. He tried to stop but Eldredge tugged at him and said, “Our equipment is just ahead.”

  The tunnel turned suddenly to reveal half a dozen kerosene lanterns standing on boxes labeled dynamite. Next to them was a green plastic trash container.

  While one of the other men began lighting lanterns, Eldredge removed the container’s tight-fitting lid and dipped a hand inside. He came up with a fistful of tobacco.

  Tobacco, Traveler remembered from Sunday school drill, is not for the body, neither for the belly.

  Eldredge spoke as if reading his mind. “New words have come to me. The Lord has given tobacco back to us to help sustain us in our trials.”

  Eldredge loaded his mouth. One after the other, his male followers did the same. They chewed slowly, like cows on cud, waiting for Traveler to join them. The women and children stood back a ways, saying nothing. One of the women opened and closed her mouth in what appeared to be sympathetic chewing.

  “It is required,” Eldredge said finally.

  Traveler tucked a pinch into his mouth. Something stronger would have suited him better.

  Eldredge took one lantern and handed another to Traveler. The light from them revealed a gradual slope down into the earth.

  Eldredge led the way, moving slowly. He spoke as he went.

  “In the beginning Brigham Young wouldn’t allow mining. His people’s calling, he said, was to farm and raise families, not seek riches. But there are always those who won’t listen. They came here and unleashed the fires of hell, Brother Traveler. This mine has been burning ever since, for nearly a century now. Recently it’s been getting worse. New fissures open all the time. Flames shoot out of the ground. Many of the old houses in town have been destroyed. We never know if we’ll be safe in our beds at night.”

  “Then why do you stay?”

  Eldredge gave no indication that he’d heard the question. “The venting steam is hot enough to scald you to death. Lately we’ve been driving pipes into the ground to ease the buildup of underground pressure. But nothing seems to help.”

  He stopped abruptly, reaching out to restrain Traveler with one hand and raising his lantern in the other. Someone bumped into Traveler from behind.

  Ahead of them hung a black curtain of smoke. It rose from a fissure in the floor of the tunnel and disappeared into a matching cleft in the stalactite-covered ceiling above.

  “This opened two days ago,” Eldredge said. “Before that, we could go on for nearly a mile.”

  “Why would you want to?” Traveler asked.

  “The flames have been kindled by Satan as my test. Only by extinguishing them will I earn the right to call myself the True Prophet. The One Picked by God. Only then will Glory become His new Zion, His promised land. But Satan waits for me beyond this barrier. He calls to me in the night, daring me to cross over.”

  “It’s never a good idea to fight the enemy on his own ground,” Traveler said.

  “Yet you came among us.” Eldredge chuckled and gave Traveler a playful nudge toward the smoky chasm.

  Hands touched Traveler’s back. He braced himself, waiting for the shove.

  “Shall the two of us cross over together, Brother Traveler, and meet Satan head-on?”

  In desperation, Traveler dredged a long-ago Sunday school lesso
n from his memory. “‘Satan is abroad in the land, and he goeth forth deceiving the nations.’”

  “And not here, you mean. Very good, Brother Traveler. But you forget one thing. The word of God as given to His one true prophet, Joseph Smith. ‘Wherefore I will say unto them—depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels.’ So you see. This is where we’ll find him. Are you ready?”

  Eldredge raised his hand. Traveler didn’t realize it was a signal, not a gesture, until something struck him in the back. He turned in time to see two women swinging large lumps of coal at him. Pain exploded inside his skull, blinding him. He felt himself start to sag. Hands caught hold of him.

  A brittle voice, like something broadcast along a taut string, buzzed in his ear. “Don’t hit him again, for Christ’s sake. He’s too heavy to carry.”

  “Tie his hands and don’t take the Lord’s name in vain again.”

  Cartilage popped in Traveler’s shoulder sockets as his arms were wrenched behind him. His wrists caught fire from whatever bound him. The fresh pain revived him enough to start him struggling. “Help me,” a woman shouted.

  Someone knocked his feet out from under him. Once he was down, they began kicking him.

  “Wait,” Eldredge said. “I want to enjoy this by the light of day.”

  They dragged him up the tunnel and out of the building, where the rain had turned into cinder-colored snow. Traveler’s body steamed in the chill air.

  Two men, one holding on to each arm, forced Traveler onto his knees in the dirty slush.

  Eldredge stepped in front of him to say, “You’d do well to pray while you have the chance, Brother Traveler. But before you do, I want to give you a message for Pepper Dalton, or whoever else you work for. Glory is ours. We’ll fight anyone who tries to take it away from us. The mining companies say there’s only one way to fight this fire, and that’s by gouging open the land. By strip-mining.”

  His head shook. “If they do that, they’ll set loose the demons of hell.”