RUNAWAY TWINS (Runaway Twins series #1)

by Pete Palamountain

  RUNAWAY TWINS

  Pete Palamountain

  With the help of a rebellious boy,

  twin girls flee a polygamous cult in mid-winter Montana.

  RUNAWAY TWINS

  Copyright © 2011 by Pete Palamountain

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  CONTENTS

  1……… A Run for Freedom

  2……… Act of Desperation

  3……… Good News and Very Bad News

  4……… A Reluctant Bride

  5……… The New Boy

  6……… Hyenas

  7……… Bitterroot Camp

  8……… Suspicion

  9……… Grim Discovery

  10……… New Arrivals

  11……… Preparations

  12……… Detection and Disaster

  13……… The Pit

  14……… Aftermath

  15……… Into the High Mountains

  16……… Pursuit

  17……… Survival

  18……… Cornered

  19……… Blizzard

  20……… Capture

  21……… Decision

  22……… The Run to Missoula

  23……… Trial in Helena

  24……… A New Beginning

  1

  A Run for Freedom

  Identical twins Rachel and Janie Lemon were ready for their run to Sheba. They weren’t certain if they could pull it off or even if their plans made sense, but they knew they must try. To wait for their thirteenth birthday was unthinkable. They were determined not to end up like their sister Mary, even if it meant bruises and broken bones or even death on one of the dark trails that led down the hill.

  After the Lemon household was asleep, they slipped out the back door and began their venture. Because the late November air was windy and cold, and they were uncertain how long they would be subjected to the elements, they dressed in layers, with heavy pants and heavy coats. They were thankful there was no snow on the ground. Generally at this time of year, the Montana prairie was blanketed in snow that didn’t melt until spring. They crept to a position behind the back corner of the chapel where they could watch the security forces as they made their rounds.

  Janie whispered, “The guard should come around in a few minutes…then he’ll disappear over the ridge if he’s on schedule.”

  “The minute he steps behind the ridge, we start running,” said Rachel, “and we don’t stop until we get to the rocks about halfway down the hill.”

  “I know, Rachel. The rocks were my idea.”

  Rachel nodded. “Just making sure we’re on the same page.”

  Janie pointed toward the west, “Look!”

  The guard had made his appearance and was trudging across the horizon in the direction of the ridge. “Wait until his head is out of sight,” Rachel said softly. The instant he was no longer visible, they sprang to their feet and darted down the hill. The gravel and dirt under their feet crunched loudly, but they continued on, knowing if the guard or someone else heard them, there was little that could be done. When they reached the safety of the rock outcropping, they dove beneath a long overhang and scrambled deeper into the crevice below.

  “Made it…I guess,” said Rachel.

  “We’ll know in a minute,” Janie said breathlessly.

  When there were no sounds for several minutes, they looked at each other in relief. “I thought we sounded like a herd of elephants going down the hill,” said Janie. “I was sure the guard must’ve heard us.”

  “He’s probably dreaming about all the wives he’s going to get someday,” said Rachel.

  After another short interval they got to their feet and began their circuitous path down the mountain. When they reached the main road to Sheba they decided to walk behind the trees about a hundred feet to the side. If they stayed on the pavement, sooner or later someone might come along and see them, and it would be likely that whoever it was would belong to the Sheba Temple. And their fears proved correct, for soon they heard the low rumble of a large vehicle coming toward them from the direction of Sheba Hill. They scurried behind a thick oak tree and peered out to see the Sheba Hill Security Service’s large black SUV rolling slowly down the hill. They pulled back behind the tree just as a powerful spotlight shone through the branches above them and on the ground on all sides of their hiding place.

  “So soon?” Janie whispered. “They’re after us so soon?”

  “Maybe not us,” said Rachel. “Maybe someone else is trying to get away…or maybe it’s just a regular security patrol.”

  “Do you think Mom and Dad woke up and turned us in?” Janie asked. “Would they do that?”

  “Dad would. Mom would probably just worry about us being gone.”

  “Someone else in our house?”

  “No one else cares about us except the boys, and they’re too little to know what’s going on. Dad’s other wives wouldn’t bother with us.”

  The SUV moved on toward Sheba; and the girls slipped from behind the oak and hiked carefully along the side of the road, ready at any moment to dart back into the woods should the guards return. “They might patrol like this every night,” said Rachel. “The Prophet and the elders are afraid of their shadows these days.”

  At the edge of town Rachel reminded Janie that the temporary FBI offices were in the post office building and the best way to get there was to circle the business district while still among the trees and come out on the opposite side of town.

  “The FBI office won’t be open,” Janie said.

  “No, but the post office will. We can curl up inside in a corner somewhere until morning and then go upstairs.”

  As they exited the woods a few hundred feet from the post office, they were startled by the sudden reappearance of the SUV. It had reached the halfway point around the traffic circle and was now headed back toward Sheba Hill. Its spotlight was off, but its headlights lit the road and the surrounding area like the eyes of a huge black dragon. Without exchanging a word, the girls whirled around and raced back under cover. This time they remained concealed for fear the guards would activate the spotlight and search the woods.

  “Don’t stick your head out!” Rachel warned.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t,” said Janie.

  After the sound of the SUV’s engine faded in the distance, they stepped out and began to make their way toward the post office. The inside lights were on and the glass double doors were unlocked. Rachel entered first and Janie followed, after looking around to make certain no one was watching. They moved deeper into the building, hesitating in front of the notice board that contained federal information and photographs of wanted criminals.

  “J.J. Flack’s picture should be up there,” said Janie.

  “And all the elders, too,” said Rachel.

  A few feet beyond the board, Rachel stopped abruptly and said, “Wait a minute! What was that in the right-hand corner—above the mail fraud guy?” They focused on the small white announcement:

  The temporary offices of the Federal Bureau of Investigation have been closed. All operations have been transferred to Helena.

  “Oh, no!” said Janie. “We’
re too late.”

  Rachel shook her head. “But we’re not defeated. There are other outsiders here in town. Someone will help us. You’ll see in the morning. We’ll find the right people and we’ll get away, Janie. I promise you we will.”

  “A foolish promise, dear,” said a deep voice behind them. They turned to see Elder Biggars, their fat, red-faced, forty-eight-year-old prospective husband grinning triumphantly at them. “Hello, ladies.”

  “We’re not ladies,” said Rachel defiantly. “We’re twelve-year-old girls.”

  “You’ll soon be thirteen,” Elder Biggars said with a cold smile.

  2

  Act of Desperation

  “Our time’s running out,” said Janie. “We’ll be thirteen in two months. We’ve got to try something else.”

  “They’ve tripled the guards on the roads and trails down to Sheba,” said Rachel.

  She was sitting on a cane-back chair in front of their dressing mirror. Janie was standing behind her brushing her sister’s long blonde hair. Janie’s hair was an identical color and also very long. Rachel was dressed in a gray flannel gown tied at the neck, and Janie was wearing flannel pajamas decorated with hundreds of little red hearts.

  “We need to get smaller,” said Janie, “like Alice in Wonderland. We need a little bottle that says DRINK ME on it. If we were ten inches high, we could slip past the temple guards and make it to Sheba.”

  “If the dogs, cats, or goats don’t eat us.”

  They both laughed.

  Rachel said, “We don’t have much time left. We don’t want to end up as two of Elder Biggars’ wives. The thought of staring at that ghoul for the rest of our lives makes me ill.”

  Janie grimaced. “I wish we could escape down Alice’s rabbit hole.”

  “I’ve got an idea,” said Rachel. “It’s not a permanent solution, but it might cause them to postpone the wedding. Any extra time would help.”

  They left the house and headed for the gazebo next to the old covered well. It was a favorite spot for them, and they’d played, talked, and giggled there since they were toddlers. When Rachel explained her plan, Janie said, “It might work. No, I know it’ll work. How about tonight?”

  “Why not?” said Rachel.

  They were thankful the floodlights were concentrated toward the center of the compound and the quarter moon was not bright enough to light the outer areas, but even in the darkness they could see the outline form of a temple guard patrolling about a hundred yards from their position. They waited until he disappeared over the ridge, and then they moved out to begin their work. Rachel carried a small paper bag, and Janie carried a gallon milk jug filled with a clear liquid.

  Hank Biggars’ unfinished new home stood on a small rise close behind his barn, not too far from his present house. The new structure was a three-level mansion, necessary to accommodate the elder’s growing family—children and wives.

  The milk jug Janie was carrying contained kerosene, and she began to soak the naked studs along the darkest side of the structure. When Janie completed her task, Rachel stepped forward and removed two items from her paper bag: a box of kitchen matches and a handheld digging tool. “Let’s dig the hole first,” Rachel said, “and then light the kerosene. That way we’ll be ready to bury the stuff quickly.”

  They moved back to a spot under a large ash tree where they knelt while Rachel dug and Janie scooped the dirt into a mound that could be readily shoved back into the hole. Then they gathered a small pile of leaves so they could camouflage the area when they were through. Next, they crept back to the building site and Rachel struck a match and touched off the kerosene. The flames leapt toward the sky and the girls recoiled in surprise. They hadn’t expected such an eruption and they looked at each other in shock.

  “Run!” shouted Janie. The fire was illuminating her frightened face, and she was already moving as she spoke. Rachel followed close behind, her long blonde hair blowing in the wind; and when they reached the hole to bury the evidence, they took only a few seconds to dump the milk jug, matches, and trowel and to kick in the dirt and cover everything with leaves. They raced home, slipped in the back door, and were in their room, breathing heavily, when they heard the first shouts coming from the outer perimeter where Elder Biggars’ new house stood. They grinned at each other in satisfaction, and Rachel said, “Well, that should slow the old fool down.”

  What they didn’t know at the time was that the fire had escalated far beyond what they had intended. A burning ember from the construction site had set the roof of the barn on fire; and shortly thereafter an ember from the barn had blown onto the roof of Elder Biggars’ present house. All three buildings were soon ablaze. Fortunately, no one was hurt in any of the three fires, and Rachel and Janie were greatly relieved. “What if someone had died?” said Rachel. “One of the children or one of Elder Biggars’ wives?”

  “We would never have forgiven ourselves,” said Janie. “We would have felt guilty for the rest of our lives.”

  Rachel said, “Unless Hank Biggars himself had been burned up. That wouldn’t have been so bad.”

  “No,” Janie objected. “We didn’t want that either. We’re not killers, Rachel.”

  “I know. I’m only joking. But the thought of our future husband roasting is sort of pleasant, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Well, a little pleasant.”

  Two fire trucks raced up the hill from the town of Sheba, but they were too late to be effective, and soon after their arrival they were reduced to pouring water on three heaps of smoldering ruins.

  The twins watched the action from the safety of the large crowd that had gathered behind the fire lines. Elder Biggars, the Prophet J.J. Flack, and several other elders and deacons stood in front of the girls, talking about the fire and about how it would affect Biggars’ immediate plans.

  “Four to six months and I’ll be back on track,” said Biggars.

  The other men waited for the Prophet to respond. They obviously had no wish to make a comment that would be stepped on or overruled by their leader. The twins’ father Seth Lemon was among the men, and Rachel and Janie stared at his back, aware that he was no different from the others; and they suspected he was worse. They were fairly certain he was the one who had reported them missing the night they were captured on their run to Sheba.

  The Prophet cleared his throat, and all of the men turned toward him anxiously. His long iron-gray hair shone in the dying firelight, and his hooded eyes were filled with purpose and insight. “This fire may be a sign from God,” he said. “I believe I’m now receiving new messages, new plans, new revelations.”

  “Like what?” Biggars asked hesitantly. The suspicion in his voice revealed he was aware that whenever the Prophet began to receive information directly from God, someone in the vicinity was going to come out on the short end of the stick.

  3

  Good News and Very Bad News

  The morning sky over Sheba Hill was streaked with red and orange from the rising sun, and there was still a residue of gray smoke in the air from the fires the night before. The twins stepped off their front porch, buttoned their coats, and headed for the temple to attend early morning chapel. They were required to attend one of the Sunday services, and they always chose the earliest so they would be free for the rest of the day.

  “No one said a word about arson,” Janie said.

  “They wouldn’t admit it, even if they suspected,” said Rachel. “Our people are above such crimes. Arson is for the outside world.”

  “But the fire department—”

  “They’re all church members. They’ll say what the Prophet wants them to say. Anyway, there may not be any evidence. That was a hot, hot fire. Nothing left.”

  “The kerosene?”

  “Gone—no smell, nothing.”

  “Good, let’s hope so.”

  They were wearing matching beige cloth coats, matching long dark blue dresses, and even their shoes were identical. They hated dressing
this way. They preferred to express their individuality, but the Prophet insisted that when attending public affairs, they appear as a team, a unit, a double image. He explained that they symbolized a double portion—and God demanded double portions.

  The Prophet’s full name was John Joseph Flack, son of John Joseph Flack, and grandson of John Joseph Flack. The Sheba Hill Fellowship was an offshoot of an offshoot of the Latter Day Saints. When the Mormons opted for respectability by discontinuing polygamy, a small group chose to ignore such restrictions and moved their operation to South Dakota. And some years later when the South Dakota group decided to minimize polygamy (while not outlawing it), the original J.J. Flack herded his people into the Montana wilderness with the comment that God doesn’t change, and therefore neither should the practices and beliefs of God’s people change. In Montana they established the town of Sheba, and on the highest point in the area, they built the Sheba Hill Temple. The first two J.J. Flacks were gone, and all power was now concentrated in the hands of John Joseph III who ran the sect as if it were his own private kingdom—which in fact it was.

  In chapel he wore a long purple robe and stood on an extremely high dais as he addressed his subjects. “Please come to order, my dear friends.”

  Rachel and Janie sat with their three little brothers (each from a different mother) sandwiched between them. The boys were five, seven, and nine; and the instruction to come to order did not change their behavior. All three were fidgeting, shoving, and kicking, and it didn’t appear Moses himself could settle them down.

  “Young men!” the Prophet said sharply. “Please sit still and behave or we will think of some creative punishment for you after chapel.”

  The boys ceased their activity at once. Even at their age, they knew that punishment on Sheba Hill could be very severe indeed, and they wanted no part of it.

  Toward the end of his message the Prophet announced a decision that changed everything. At first the girls thought they were receiving good news, for the Prophet decreed that because of the fire, the marriage of the Lemon twins to Elder Biggars would not take place. The girls were overjoyed, and they nudged one another in relief. Their scheme had worked.