by Kristie Cook
“But, he hasn’t even met me.”
River grabbed a hackamore off the wall and shoved it into Gabriel’s hands. “Shula’s in Reuben’s office filling his head full of lies.”
Jonathan grabbed River’s arm. “What sort of lies?”
“The sort that will get you killed.” River put her hands on her knees and leaned over, breathing hard. “She thinks that your family will never stop searching until they find you or your body.”
“That’s not a lie.”
“They may not give up, but they won’t find you. And neither will Reuben. Not until I’ve convinced him that you aren’t a threat to our security.”
Gabriel led Thunder out of his box stall. “Where are you taking him? I’ll bring you supplies tomorrow.”
“It’s better if you don’t know. I’ve got my bow, and a quiver full of arrows. I’ll get Jonathan settled and then come back to talk some sense into Reuben.”
“Is that so?”
Jonathan spun around. A giant of a man stepped into the stable. He could have just stepped out of a Clint Eastwood movie. He had the same straight, dark brown hair as Eli, River and Gabriel. His fringed buckskin coat stretched across the broadest shoulders Jonathan had ever seen. The man was at least six and a half feet tall. But he moved with fluid grace.
Time slowed as Jonathan’s brain shifted into survival mode. A quick sweep of the stable didn’t reveal anything he could use as a weapon. Where the hell did they keep the pitch forks?
***
River whirled around and put her hands on Reuben’s chest. “I won’t let you kill my recruit!”
Reuben arched an eyebrow then narrowed his eyes. “What makes you think I’m going to kill him? Were you listening outside my door again?”
River straightened her spine and lifted her chin, but her entire body trembled. “I came into the house to tell you about Jonathan, but I overheard you and Shula in your office.”
Every muscle in Jonathan’s body tensed as he crept closer.
Gabriel’s eyes darted back and forth between Reuben and Jonathan. He shook his head. The movement was so subtle it was more like a twitch, but his meaning was clear. Stay back.
Jonathan appreciated the warning, but he wasn’t going to just stand there and watch if Reuben tried to hurt River.
He relaxed a little when Reuben gazed at River with obvious affection. “You didn’t stick around for the entire conversation, did you?”
River shook her head.
“I’m curious. What were you planning to do with him?”
“Hide him until I could talk you into letting me keep him.”
Keep him? Like a pet?
The corners of Reuben's mouth twitched then spread into a smile. “You know I’d never let anyone, not even Shula, dictate how I run my pack. You may keep your recruit.” Reuben looked up and locked gazes with Jonathan, “So long as he obeys the rules.”
River wrapped her arms around Reuben’s waist and squeezed. The top of her head didn’t quite reach his collar bone. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
Reuben untangled himself from River’s embrace and extended his hand towards Jonathan. “I’m Reuben, son of Zebulon and Israel’s daughter. Welcome to my home.”
If Gabriel’s handshake was bone-crushing, Reuben’s was pulverizing. Jonathan smiled to hide his grimace of pain. “Nice to meet you, sir. And thanks for your hospitality.”
“Hospitality? You’ll earn your keep if you want to keep breathing.”
There was no doubt in Jonathan’s mind that the threat was real. “I’m not afraid of hard work.”
“Good.” He nodded at Jonathan, dismissing him, then looked at Gabriel. “Move a bed from the bunkhouse into your room. Shula sent all the ranch hands and servants away. No point heating the entire bunkhouse for one recruit. You’ll be sharing your room with Jonathan.”
Gabriel’s chin jerked down as he hunched his shoulders, but he never broke eye contact. “Yes, sir.”
Jonathan didn’t want to intrude and he sure as hell didn’t want to piss off Gabriel. He needed all the allies he could get. “I can sleep here in the stable.”
Reuben’s gaze snapped back to Jonathan. “All my ranch hands have been drafted into the enforcers’ ranks until Shula lifts the quarantine. Patrols have been doubled.”
“I’m not going to run.” Not tonight, anyway.
“Help Gabriel move your bed into his room then meet me in my office.”
Jonathan and Gabriel replied at the same time. “Yes, sir.”
As soon as Reuben left, Gabriel grinned at Jonathan. “I’m glad you’re bunking with me.”
“Really? From the look you gave your father, you could have fooled me.”
“You mean this look?” Gabriel ducked his head and hunched his shoulders but kept his eyes on Jonathan’s face.
“Yeah.” Jonathan laughed. “That one.”
“He gave me a direct order.” Gabriel shrugged. “Body language, more than words, demonstrates acquiescence.”
“Acquiescence?”
“It means total agreement.”
“I know what it means. I’m just surprised you do.” Jonathan grinned to let Gabriel know he was teasing.
“Just because we live a simpler, cleaner life doesn’t mean we aren’t educated.”
“Really? Do you study science?”
“Yes, but you’d probably call it alchemy.”
“Aren’t alchemists the guys that think you can spin straw into gold?”
Gabriel laughed then grabbed some straw off the stable floor and threw it at Jonathan. “That’s ridiculous. Everyone knows you can’t turn straw into gold. Only lead.”
Jonathan scooped up a fistful of straw and shoved it down the back of Gabriel’s shirt. “Really? I heard all you had to do was rub a little straw against the skin of a pretentious boy.”
“Pretentious?” Gabriel bear hugged Jonathan and took him to the ground. The straw cushioned their fall, but they both grunted when they landed. The kid was solid muscle. What would he be like when he was fully grown?
Jonathan was exhausted after riding for thirteen hours, but it felt good to wrestle and forget about the nightmare his life had become. Of all the things he missed about Franklin, he missed sparring with him the most. Jonathan put Gabriel in a head lock and rubbed his knuckles against the top of his head. “Yes, pretentious. It means overconfident.”
“If you two are done comparing vocabularies, I suggest you get a move on.” River stood in the doorway, backlit by the moon, with her hands on her hips. “Reuben wants to talk to Jonathan as soon as your done moving the bed.”
Her raw beauty stole Jonathan’s breath. How could one girl be so confident, powerful and strong, yet vulnerable and feminine? She was a puzzle. A puzzle Jonathan would love to solve.
Gabriel braced his feet against the ground and arched his back, breaking Jonathan’s hold.
Instead of fighting him, Jonathan used the kid’s momentum and kept rolling until he was on top. He considered letting Gabriel pin him, but the kid’s perma-grin was still plastered on his face. He was enjoying this as much as Jonathan. Letting him win would only insult him.
“Hey!” River stomped her foot. “This is serious. Reuben does not like to be kept waiting.”
Gabriel’s grin faded, but didn’t disappear completely. “Just so you know, I’m not submitting. We can finish this tomorrow.”
***
It took a good fifteen minutes to haul the aspen-log bed from the bunkhouse, up the snow-covered trail to the monstrosity built into the side of the mountain. The front of Reuben's home reminded Jonathan of a ski lodge. Each log was perfectly round, smooth as silk and fit together like matching pieces of a puzzle.
Gabriel and Jonathan wrestled the bed up six steps onto the flagstone porch. Gabriel set his end of the bed down and removed his boots. The rock had to feel like a block of ice, but he didn’t even flinch.
Jonathan gritted his teeth and leaned over to unlace his righ
t boot. The air near his feet was balmy. He pressed his palm against the stone surface of the porch and sighed as warmth spread through his hand. His parents had heated tile in the master bath, but that required electricity.
The interior of the house was almost balmy. Surprising, since the back wall was solid rock, carved out of the mountain. The wood-burning stove in the kitchen was twice as big as the one in the quarantine cabin, but it wasn’t lit. A fireplace took up most of the wall on Jonathan’s right, but all it held was blackened logs and a hand-cranked spit made of iron, no blaze. The long hallway and Gabriel’s room were just as warm as the front room.
Once the bed was in place, Jonathan stretched his aching back. “Okay, so what’s up with the hot rocks on the front porch? How do you heat this place? I noticed the stable was warm, too.”
Gabriel shrugged out of his parka and hung it on a hook next to a bank of shelves. “Pa built this place near a hot spring. He designed it so hot water flows through a series of pipes under the floor. The stable only has one pipe, running down the center of the building. But that’s good enough for the horses. The pipes under the house snake back and forth so the whole place stays the same temperature.”
Jonathan squatted down and ran his hand over the stone floor. “Doesn’t it get too hot in the summer?” Afternoon temperatures could climb into the low nineties, even in the high country.
“We divert the hot water away from the house in the summer and open the access tunnel to the cold water spring.”
“Wow. That’s pretty amazing.”
Gabriel grinned and lit a candle inside a hurricane lantern. “That’s not even the best part. Come on, I’ll show you.”
Jonathan followed Gabriel to the back of the house. He opened the door to what looked like the bottom of a mine shaft. The room was carved out of the mountain.
A gurgling sound puzzled Jonathan until he caught a whiff of sulfur. This must be the geothermal equivalent of a furnace room.
Gabriel set the hurricane lantern on a stone shelf and backed out so Jonathan could enter.
He held onto the door jamb and leaned inside. Two streams of water flowed down the back wall into troughs carved out of the rock. They converged in the middle then emptied into a stone basin. It looked like some sort of artistic fountain, but steam roiled off the water in one of the troughs. Jonathan looked over his shoulder at Gabriel. “Hot and cold running water?”
“Just like they have inside Sanctuary Mount—” Gabriel froze. He didn’t even blink.
Jonathan smiled and shook his head. “Don’t worry. I’m not even gonna ask.”
Gabriel exhaled and pressed his hand over his heart. “Thanks.”
Jonathan turned around and resumed his inspection of the strange water feature. There was no drain in the stone basin, so the water spilled over the sides and disappeared down an iron grate set into the floor. A bar of homemade soap sat on a carved ledge next to the basin.
A rectangular, stone box stood about three feet to the left of the sink. It had two oval holes cut into the top. Jonathan pointed at the first hole. “A toilet?”
Gabriel grinned and nodded.
The second hole was identical to the first, except for the stream of water shooting into it at a forty-five degree angle from the back wall.
“Is that a bidet?”
“A what?”
“A personal cleaning … thing?”
Gabriel nodded and pointed at the first hole. “Use that one first, then sit on the … biddy.”
“Okaaay.”
“It gets you much cleaner than leaves.”
“Yeah. I’ll bet.” Jonathan took the hurricane lantern off the shelf and held it over the toilet. He took a tentative sniff, but it didn’t smell like an outhouse. There was a slight odor of rotten eggs, but that was just sulfur and it didn’t smell as bad as the cleansing pool back at the quarantine cabin. Water flowed from right to left. “An underground river?”
“Yeah.”
It probably violated all sorts of public sanitation laws, but there was no denying this was so much better than trekking through the snow to an outhouse or using a chamber pot. “Where’s the shower?”
“Near the mud pit; about 3 miles from here.”
“You have to hike six miles round trip for a shower?”
“We only use it after soaking in the mud pit. The cleansing pools are much closer.”
“How much closer?” A quick soak in a hot spring would do wonders for Jonathan’s sore muscles.
“It’s only a mile, but the trail’s too dangerous to navigate at night. I’ll take you tomorrow.” Gabriel opened a cabinet door and handed Jonathan a rag. He pointed to the overflowing basin. “Go ahead and wash up. I’ll try to find a clean tunic for you to sleep in.”
“Do you sleep in a tunic?”
Gabriel shook his head. “You’re the only one that wears clothes to bed.”
“I can sleep naked as long as River isn’t sharing a room with us.”
“Why are you so worried about River seeing your body?” Gabriel glanced over his shoulder, obviously checking for eavesdroppers. He leaned closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Is it because of your … deformity?”
Jonathan resisted the urge to hide his stump behind his back and held it out in front of himself. “I’m not ashamed of this.”
“No, I meant …” Gabriel flicked his gaze to Jonathan’s crotch, “ … down there. Was it an accident? Or was your manhood mutilated as a punishment?”
Jonathan’s cheeks and ears burned. “My manhood is not mutilated.”
“You were born that way?”
“Are you talking about the fact that I was circumcised?” Jonathan didn’t make a habit of checking out other guys, but with all the shameless nudity, he couldn’t help but notice that Eli and Gabriel hadn’t been circumcised.
“I’ve heard of that. The children of Judah are circumcised.” Even in the dim light, Jonathan could see the color drain from Gabriel’s face. “Do you belong to Judah’s tribe?”
Jonathan was Mormon—sort of—not Jewish. “If I belong to any tribe, it’s the tribe of Ephraim.”
Gabriel’s mouth fell open. His eyes widened. He didn’t say anything for several seconds. When he finally spoke, it was with solemn reverence. “You … are a son of Ephraim?”
“Not literally.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Mormon’s believe that every member of the church belongs to one of the twelve tribes of Israel. So they give you a special blessing and one of the things they tell you is which tribe you belong to.” Jonathan shrugged. “Mine just happens to be the tribe of Ephraim. No big deal.”
“It’s a very big deal.” Gabriel’s eyes grew even wider as he inched closer to the door. “It’s a huge deal. I need to tell Pa.”
Jonathan’s mouth went dry. It would be just his luck for Reuben’s family to be at war with another cult led by some kook named Ephraim. “Why is it such a huge deal?”
“There’s an old legend about Ephraim being the rightful ruler of New Eden. I can’t remember it exactly, but Pa has it memorized.”
“Okay, stop. This is nothing but a freaky coincidence. Any Mormon can get a patriarchal blessing … as long as they’re worthy.” Jonathan cringed. Franklin had refused to get his blessing until Jonathan was ready to get his. So, he’d lied about his worthiness during his interview with the bishop to be sure Franklin got his patriarchal blessing before they deployed. Jonathan still felt guilty about it, but he would have felt a hell of a lot worse if Frankie had died without that blessing.
By now, Gabriel’s eyes were bugging out of his head. “You’ve been blessed by a patriarch? What trials did you pass to prove your worthiness? Is that why they cut your manhood? Was it a test of courage?”
“My circumcision has nothing to do with my religion. And we don’t mutilate people to test their courage or worthiness or even to punish them.”
“Then why did you allow them to mutilate you?”
“Why would anyone do that to a baby?” Gabriel shuddered. “That’s so … cruel.”
“I have no idea. And now that I think about it; you’re right. It is pretty cruel.”
Gabriel finally blinked. His mouth was still tight with tension, but at least his eyes looked normal again. “Why don’t you want me to tell Pa you’re a descendant of Ephraim?”
“Because I’m not!” Jonathan took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. If Gabriel started spouting off his legend theory to Reuben, who knew where this might lead.
“How do you know you’re not descended from Ephraim?”
“This Ephraim guy was supposed to be some great leader, right?”
Gabriel furrowed his brow, nearly bringing his eyebrows together.
“I was a private first class in the army. No one would ever mistake me for a leader.” Jonathan draped his left arm over Gabriel’s shoulder and gave him another noogie. He didn’t want to wind up as some accidental messiah. That hadn’t worked out so well for the real one.
***
A deep ache in Jonathan’s thighs, glutes and lower back woke him the next morning. “Damn horses.”
The smell of fried eggs lured him out of bed. Gabriel was already gone, his bed made. Jonathan’s chat with Reuben hadn’t amounted to much other than a warning to obey every order, without hesitation or question, or suffer the consequences. Sort of like being in the army.
Jonathan got dressed then made his bed. It wasn’t exactly according to army standards, but it looked as good as Gabriel’s. His stomach growled, but his bladder insisted he make a quick detour down the hall before heading to the kitchen.
River stood in front of the stove, scowling at the sizzling, popping eggs in the skillet. “Ouch!” She flinched and jerked her hand back. “I hate cooking!”
Jonathan moved to her side and held out his hand. “Do you want some help with that?”
She gave him a sideways glance and snorted. “Men don’t cook.”
“Sure they do.” He bumped her hip with his and took the spatula out of her hand. “No wonder the eggs are popping, they’re drowning in grease.”
“Well, how else am I going to keep them from sticking?”
