In late summer, we received a surprise visit from Joel’s new investigators. They arrived in three different vehicles. All fifteen men came from Utah with one goal in mind: to find out if Joel was truly a prophet sent by Almighty God. My kitchen became the central gathering place. I fed all the men three meals a day. None left the room except to go out back and use the outhouse. Ervil expounded the scriptures, proving all Joel’s claims to each man’s satisfaction. Question after question was answered. Joel used the four standard works, the Bible, the Book of Mormon, Doctrine and Covenants, and Pearl of Great Price, plus the teachings of the prophet Joseph Smith.
A couple of men expressed their dissatisfaction, seeing how Ervil seemed to be taking control. When Joel tried to answer their questions, Ervil invariably cut in with his own interpretation—and an arrogance that a few did not appreciate. One visitor, David Barlow, paused between words as he directed his question solely to Joel. I could see he was hesitant about asking such a direct question: “Joel, I want a straight answer. Are you the One Mighty and Strong?”
Joel’s eyes dropped for a moment, staring at the floor. David spoke again. “Either you are, or you aren’t. If you are, why don’t you have the guts to say so?”
Joel looked up. We could all see his face was red with embarrassment. “Well,” he began humbly, “I happen to be that man, but I don’t like to flaunt it. I didn’t ask for this job. It was given to me, and I have been appointed by God.”
I could see a new fire in some of the men’s eyes. This was the first time these men had ever heard Joel utter this claim. Three days of complete indoctrination proved to be a milestone for the new church. All fifteen men pledged their faith and allegiance to their new prophet. They vowed to follow Joel’s advice and make the move to Mexico as soon as they possibly could.
Verlan had been skeptical for two years, doubting Joel’s continual claims. Yet, he couldn’t help but be impressed with his brother’s forthright honesty. He had opposed Joel up to this point, but it all changed at the encounter with these converted men. Verlan wondered how Joel had ever convinced the entire group when he so thoroughly lacked knowledge of the scriptures. Therefore Verlan felt it was definitely the power of God that convicted the men. Verlan let his guard down, reconsidering Joel’s doctrine. Had he refused to accept Joel’s claims because of prior disappointments and fear of further rejection and condemnation from all his friends and peers? He eventually surrendered the reservations he had about his brother.
Verlan had shown his loyalty as a teenager to the LDS Mormons. He had received baptism at their hands. He had been troubled that his mother and father had been excommunicated for living polygamy. Another disappointment came when Joel and Ervil were fulfilling a mission in southern Mexico. Although both were in good standing with the Mormon Church, they were excommunicated, along with Alma and Ben, for teaching polygamy.
Joel later repented, asking to be rebaptized in the Mormon Church. They forgave him, thus allowing him back into their fold. Then, two years later, he was called into a church court for claiming to be a prophet and was excommunicated again. The LeBarons became a bigger embarrassment to the Mormons every day.
Although Verlan loved the LDS Church and he valued his membership, he felt he had to live polygamy in order to gain his exaltation. For this reason, he kept quiet about his marriage to me. When I was in my third trimester with my first child, Verlan had no clue that Dr. Hatch would extract the secret information from me when I went in for a checkup. But, about a month later, Verlan was called in before a bishop’s court and then the High Council of the LDS Church and was excommunicated for practicing polygamy. He felt saddened because he had been treated so wonderfully by the Mormons when he lived among them. He had many friends whom he respected and did not want to lose. But following his excommunication, Verlan was deeply humiliated because the LeBarons were the butt of every joke and criticism, especially in his hometown, Colonia Juárez, and in nearby Colonia Dublán. He had been born and raised in Colonia Juárez, had attended Juárez State Academy and BYU, and now lamented not being accepted in those communities.
Now, after two years of intense study, Verlan was convinced that Joel had indeed received their father’s mantle and was the promised mighty and strong prophet. Therefore, he decided to be baptized. I was heartsick about the incident. After years of loyalty to Uncle Rulon, I felt that to abandon his priesthood now would be a betrayal.
Lucy joined Verlan in his baptism. Out of sheer jealousy and not wanting Lucy to be favored, I was baptized the following day. A few days later, Charlotte conceded.
BY 1958, IT HAD BECOME EVIDENT that Lucinda needed to be committed to a mental facility. Too many people had complained that her presence on the ranch was not conducive to the growth of the now-flourishing church. Even Joel could see that she should no longer shout greetings, welcoming the saints from her adobe cage day and night upon their arrival. Her jabbering and disheveled appearance repulsed and embarrassed the newcomers.
Many times I had argued with the brothers collectively and individually about Lucinda’s being a problem, insisting that her needs were not being met. I knew something needed to be done in order to bring hope into her life. If she lived in a clean facility with other mental patients, she could converse and share good food, music, and social events. All this would surely benefit her mental and emotional health.
The family finally agreed that Lucinda needed to be moved. Maud prepared her for travel, bathing her and packing clothes and other necessities for her daughter.
Verlan knew what this trip would entail, and he was not looking forward to being contained in a vehicle for several hours with his sister. He had dealt with Lucinda many times before and knew she was unpredictable and could be uncontrollable. Nevertheless, he and his brother-in-law Floyd Spencer drew the short straws, so to speak, so with Lucinda sandwiched between them in a pickup, they headed for the border at Douglas, Arizona, carrying only Lucinda’s few belongings and a couple of plastic gallon jugs of water.
Upon their arrival at the institution in Tucson, they were told Lucinda would have to meet certain requirements before she could be admitted to make sure she qualified for their services. But when three officers came out to the truck to escort her into the building, Lucinda jumped out of the truck. She grabbed one of the gallon jugs of drinking water. Then to everyone’s amazement she held it high over her head and hollered hysterically, “I’m Napoleon! See, I’m Napoleon!” As she shouted, she danced with the jug, shaking it and drenching her hair and clothes.
Apparently there’s no waiting period for sopping wet, dancing Napoleon impersonators; my sister-in-law was admitted on the spot.
Lucinda spent the rest of her life in the Arizona State Mental Hospital.
CHAPTER EIGHT
One afternoon, Maud, accompanied by Lucinda’s two daughters, Maudie and Joan, went to El Valle to do some shopping. The girls had been invited to participate as bridesmaids in their Mexican friend’s wedding. Using her fractured Spanish, along with hand gestures, Maud made her wishes known. The proprietor, a short, middle-aged man, was very attentive. He retrieved three bolts of satin material—pink, blue, and yellow—from the high shelf behind the counter. The two girls excitedly unfolded a yard or so from each bolt, asking their grandmother which material she liked best to make their bridesmaid dresses.
“I like the light blue,” Maud said, holding the bolt in her left hand as she unwound enough cloth to cover Joan’s chest. “Look how nice this color is,” she exclaimed. “It will bring out the blue in your eyes. I’ll buy enough to make you girls identical dresses.”
The proprietor smiled, satisfied, and replaced the remaining two bolts on the shelf. He then measured and cut ten meters of the blue cloth. Sliding the material across the table toward Maud, he asked her in his native tongue, “Do you need anything else?” His rapid speech made it difficult for Maud to decipher exactly what he’d said. She asked the girls to clarify.
Just then, a swarthy
Mexican who was standing nearby asked in perfect English, “Could I interpret for you?” His charming smile captivated the women.
“Oh, thank you. I think we can do okay between the three of us,” Maud said, laughing.
From the look of the stranger’s tan leather jacket and expensive shirt and shoes, it was apparent that he wasn’t a local resident. The man was surprised when the fifteen- and sixteen-year-old girls rattled off questions in perfect Spanish, inquiring as to his hometown and future plans.
“I just arrived on a bus from Ciudad Juárez. Eventually I’ll go to Mexico City, where I hope to find my family; I haven’t seen them for a very long time.”
Maud, trusting her instinct, invited the young gentleman to accompany them back to the ranch. “I’m Mauro Gutierrez.” He offered his hand to all three, greeting them warmly. “I’d love to accompany you.”
“Where did you learn such good English?” Joan asked.
“I’ve lived in California for the last thirteen years. Actually I’m a wetback.” He chuckled. “I had a few domestic problems. My wife called the police and turned me in as an illegal alien. Immediately, I found myself evicted from the U.S.”
Concerned, Maud interrupted. “I hope I haven’t invited someone who is violent to come with us.”
“No, don’t worry. My wife was upset because she learned I was having an affair.”
Maud paid for the cloth, and Mauro offered to carry it to the bus station a block away.
By the time the bus had traveled the twelve miles to the ranch, Maud felt as if she had known this young man forever. Not only was he exceptionally good-looking, his jovial personality seemed infectious. She quietly cautioned sixteen-year-old Joan to quit flirting with him. “Remember,” she whispered, “he can be no more than a friend to you. He’s a gentile.”
Shortly after Mauro’s arrival, Maud walked him over to my little house. By then I had moved out of Charlotte’s house to a place of my own with three small rooms. After introductions, she asked if I would invite the young stranger to stay at my home for a few days.
Not wanting to impose, Mauro interrupted. “But not if it’s going to be an inconvenience. I’ll be going on my way soon,” he assured me.
I personally felt that Mauro was a godsend. I longed to have someone who could speak English to visit with. Since I had been isolated in Mexico for three years now with virtually no visitors, his presence was more than valuable to me.
I knew he must be hungry, so when Maud left, I served fresh-cooked pinto beans and corn tortillas to my guest. Like a sponge, I absorbed every word he said. His life was a bit shocking; he talked so nonchalantly about several affairs he’d had. But I immensely enjoyed hearing his life story as he ate. When he finished, he set his plate to one side, cleaning the space on the table in front of him. With his wide, piercing brown eyes, he leaned forward into my face. “Tell me, what is an intelligent young woman like you doing here, living in these conditions?” He sounded disappointed, as if I’d failed him somehow, and his words punctured my pride, almost summoning tears. I too, had asked myself that same question many, many times.
Before I could answer, my brother-in-law Alma showed up at the door. His mother had informed him of the newcomer’s arrival, and Alma was as eager as I was to talk with someone new. He entered the house, introduced himself, and shook hands with Mauro. “Do you want to ride around with me in my truck today? We can get acquainted while I check on a few cows in the pasture.”
Mauro asked where he could leave his small bag of belongings. He shoved it under the metal cot in a small room adjacent to the kitchen that I indicated would be his. The two men left. I was a little nervous after the comments that Mauro had made to me. Did he think I was nuts living here? I knew Alma had a few weird ideas, so I hoped he’d keep quiet about my situation. I did not want him to reveal to Mauro that we were living polygamy. I wondered if I would be condemned by Mauro upon his return. Would he be as accepting when he discovered our lifestyle? I hoped he wouldn’t think all of my ideals were in agreement with Alma’s. I’ll never forget what happened that evening when Mauro returned to my house alone. “Hi,” I said, welcoming him in with a smile. “How did your day go with Alma?”
He shook his head as though he wondered if he even dared share their conversation. “Well, it’s been interesting to say the least.” He chuckled.
“What’s up? You can tell me. I’m used to surprises.”
He hesitated, embarrassed. “I’m still trying to digest the conversation myself, but I’ll tell you anyway. I told Alma how I’d been thrown out of the States for sleeping with an underage girl. When my wife found out, she blew up and had me kicked out of the country. Alma told me that my wife didn’t understand the laws of God. He told me the Bible says if you ‘entice a maiden’ [become sexually involved], the punishment is that you have to marry her. I found out that I could have had every woman I’ve ever slept with if I’d of just done it in the name of God. Alma told me that God allows a man to have all the wives he wants as long as they are married to him by the priesthood.” He laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. “I screwed ’em in the U.S. and almost went to jail, and now I can come here and screw ’em with God’s permission. Isn’t that insane?” he joked.
I was sick inside. I had to agree. It did sound pretty irrational, especially when an unbelieving gentile explained it so offensively. I myself didn’t understand the whole concept behind it, yet because my family had lived polygamy for five generations, I didn’t believe it could be wrong. All I knew was that Joseph Smith had received a revelation from God that we had to live polygamy to gain our salvation. And I definitely didn’t want to go to hell!
I had to clarify my situation before he got any wrong impressions.
“Mauro,” I ventured, hoping to defend myself and sound logical, “I happen to be my husband’s second wife. All three of us live side by side.”
His jaw fell. “Tell me it’s not true.” He looked at me as though he were questioning my sanity. “Don’t you think you deserve to have a man to yourself ?”
I wondered who he thought he was, telling me this after his confessions of illicit affairs. Instead of answering him, I fed him homemade whole wheat bread, peach jam, and milk. After he had gone to bed, I lay in mine, feeling uneasy. Would he try to seduce me? I’d hoped that I’d said enough to convince him of my fervent beliefs. Perhaps when he realized my unshakable faith, he would examine the scriptures himself. Maybe the truth would be revealed to him.
AS HARD AS I TRIED to keep Mauro away from my niece Joan, it seemed he was constantly flirting with her. I was actually relieved when he announced he was leaving for a few days to Villa Humada, a small town near Ciudad Juárez. He hoped to find a cousin there who would tell him of the whereabouts of his six brothers whom he hadn’t seen in thirteen years.
I was shocked, three days later, when Mauro got off the bus by the cattle guard at the entrance of the ranch. He had a light-skinned, beautiful nineteen-year-old Mexican girl with him. She flipped her short black hair as they walked hand in hand. When he saw me come to the screen door, he opened it playfully as he did a little jig. “I want you to meet my wife, Esther,” he said almost apologetically. “She speaks no English, but I’m sure she’ll understand your broken Spanish.”
I offered her my hand. She took it, but her shyness kept her eyes from connecting with mine.
“When did you get married? How long have you known her?” I fired question after question at him.
“I met her three days ago at a corn festival. We danced the whole night of the celebration while I convinced her to marry me. Later we eloped. We’ll live together until my divorce goes through from my first wife.”
Later that evening, Alma convinced Mauro that it wouldn’t be acceptable to live in sin among our families. He talked Mauro into being taken with Esther to the Galeana springs, where he would baptize them into our church and marry them by the holy priesthood. The spring’s water flowed out of a group of hills
located northeast, about three miles from the colony. The trees and vegetation were like a sparkling oasis in a grassland valley. It was a designated spot for baptisms.
Still in wet clothes, the two cleansed sinners stood before Alma, where he confirmed them as new members into our sputtering organization. The chilly September breeze gave the couple goose bumps. Wrapped in towels for protection from the cold, they held hands as Alma led them in a holy vow. Willingly they entered into a sacred covenant to be husband and wife for all eternity. But, unbeknownst to Esther, as the service progressed, she also was told she had to live the holy principle of plural marriage. Esther was clueless that she would be making covenants to minister to her husband by helping influence other women to enter into their anticipated family kingdom. To her horror, she learned Mauro was instructed to gather women unto himself so that he would complete a quorum of seven wives, thus assuring their entrance into heaven. Esther’s shocked look alarmed Alma. Paralyzed with fear, she had only cooperated to be married, but somehow she had been inadvertently caught up in a new church.
Later she told me she thanked God she was on a secluded ranch where Mauro’s dreams of grandeur would not be feasible. With her Catholic morals, the mere thought of him taking another wife shook her to her very core.
THE NEWLYWEDS MOVED into a small room connected to my house. One evening Mauro invited me to enjoy a cup of coffee with them. I’d been taught Joseph Smith’s Word of Wisdom all my life: righteous saints were never to let caffeinated coffee or tea even touch their lips. We were taught that those hot drinks were stimulants and not conducive to one’s health. But at his insistence I gave in, feeling guilty as Esther handed me a cup. I had taken just a swallow or two when in barged Verlan, unannounced. Verlan smelled the aroma, looked at the cup in my hands, and asked, “Irene, what are you drinking?”
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