“Father?” Tanner shifts in his seat, breaking the silence.
I try to breathe. Yes, finally. Tanner will talk to Father and make this better.
“If you’re gonna kill us, can we just get it over with?” my brother snaps.
Wait. Who said anything about killing us?
Tanner points angrily to the dashboard clock. “We’ve been driving for hours.”
Father’s face reddens, but still he says nothing. His knuckles go white as he turns west, blinding us with the sun.
Tanner lowers his visor, but Father squints against the blazing brightness and speeds up. My stomach twists around my tasteless lunch. What have we done? What if I don’t get to say good-bye to Amy? Mother? All because we had to play in the festival.
I wish Father would yell at us. Something. Anything would be better than these miles and miles of silence.
And then I see it. Up ahead. A giant drop-off. Father slows as we approach the steel bridge that stretches over the massive gorge and pulls over.
This is it: We’re dead.
“Get out,” Father says as he kills the engine. He jumps from the truck and slams the door. Through the bug-splattered windshield, I see him walk away from us, moving farther and farther across the long bridge.
“Where are we?” I whisper, even though I know there’s no way Father can hear.
Tanner glances over the seat for the first time since we left Santa Fe. Confusion lines his forehead. “No idea.”
“What are we doing here?”
Tanner shakes his head. “I don’t know that, either.”
I can hardly even see Father now. He’s a dot on the burning horizon.
My brother turns and pushes his door open before jumping out. “He wants us out. Let’s get out.”
I clench my jaw and force myself to slide across the seat before jumping out of Tanner’s truck. Immediately, the hot wind gusts across the gorge, whipping my dress against my legs. A long strand of hair escapes my braid. I pull it from my mouth and tuck it behind my ear, fighting the wind to match Tanner’s pace.
Soon, we find Father, alone on the bridge. His red hair glints in the sunlight as he peers over the edge. We stand on either side of him, and for the first time, I look down. The tops of two sheer cliffs support the ends of the bridge. The river runs hundreds of feet below us.
I wrap my arms around myself.
“Father?” Tanner asks, his voice softer now.
For the first time today, Father looks at us. Really looks at us. “Your grandfather brought me here when I was younger,” he says, like a sudden calm has settled over him. “It’s the Rio Grande Gorge.”
My shoulders relax a little at the sound of his voice. At least he’s talking. I glance at the Rio Grande, raging far below us.
“He took me here only once,” Father says, his voice carried away by the wind. He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes the sweat from his forehead. “When I wanted to leave the community.”
My jaw drops; my eyes move away from the deep hole to his tired face. I never knew my father wanted to leave Watchful.
“You never told me you wanted to leave,” Tanner says, the shock evident in his voice.
Father nods, returning his handkerchief to his pocket. “I’m not proud of it.”
“So why then?” I ask, my voice unsure. “Why would Grandfather take you here?”
Father looks at the hole splitting the earth. “To show me the power of God.” Another rush of wind lifts the hair around my face. Hot. Like the breath of God.
Father’s hands grip the bridge’s railing. “Hundreds of years ago, a boy wanted to leave his family and venture out into the world. Even though God repeatedly told him to stay, the boy went anyway.”
I glance at Tanner. He shifts, uneasily.
“The boy had only been gone a few days when he became homesick and decided to return to his family. But when he reached this place, God appeared before him. Angry that the boy had defied Him, God struck the earth with His staff and split it in two. The staff left a huge hole in the earth.” My gaze travels the gorge that splits the earth for miles. “The boy had no way to cross. Separated from his family, he died all alone.”
“How did you know?” Tanner asks. “How did you know we’d left Watchful?”
Father sighs. “You think I don’t know the heart of my own son?” He turns away from the railing and gives my brother a stern look. “The Prophet has forbidden Gentry from leaving the community. Therefore, I forbid it.” He shakes his head. “You knew this.”
My brother’s shoulders sink.
“But, Father,” I say. “It wasn’t his—”
He puts a hand up, stopping me.
But I wanted to go.
“It’s indefensible, Gentry. You defied the word of God.”
The threat of tears is sudden. “I didn’t think—”
“That’s right,” Father says. “You didn’t think. Neither of you did.”
Had we really defied God? I really didn’t mean to. I just wanted to play my violin so badly. But what if I can’t return to my family now? To Amy? What would I do? “I’m sorry, Father,” I say, a tear running down my cheek. “We both are. Aren’t we, Tanner?”
But my brother doesn’t look sorry. His face is red. His lips clamp shut.
Father wipes the tear from my face and sighs. “We will await nightfall before we return home.”
I manage to breathe.
He lifts a finger. “This one time only.”
“Thank you, Father,” I say, wanting to hug him. I know I shouldn’t, so my hands clasp the railing instead.
Tanner remains silent as Father picks up a rock from the bridge and pitches it over the edge. It falls for what seems like forever until I detect a tiny splash in the river. Father shakes his head. “Let’s only hope God allows it.”
***
It’s been dark for a few hours by the time we return to the familiar foothills, north of Santa Fe. Everyone will be in their family homes by now, so Father thinks we should be able to sneak inside undetected.
As Father drives, Tanner leans his head against the passenger-side window. I think he’s pretending to be asleep.
I finally get the courage to ask: “What about our mothers?” I know they probably realized I was gone around dinnertime when I wasn’t there to help.
Father twists the ring on his left finger, the one he’s worn since he married Mother Lenora. At least, that’s what Mother told me. “I lied to them,” he says, his voice barely a whisper.
I lean forward slightly so I can hear.
“I told them you’d fallen at school, and I had to take you into town for an X-ray. I told them, while I was there, I might as well get my truck serviced and catch a ride home from Tanner.” He glances back at me through the rearview mirror. “I forbid them to say a word to anyone.”
I fall against my seat, feeling guilty all over again. Father lied for me. I defied God, and my father lied to our mothers. All because I wanted to play my violin.
“Let me do the talking when we get home, okay?” he adds.
“Yes, Father,” I say.
“Tanner?” Father asks, touching my brother’s shoulder. “You aren’t going to give me any trouble, are you?”
Tanner shrugs away from Father’s hand.
With a sigh, Father slows as we approach the concrete wall that surrounds our community. “If they’re at the gate, remember to let me do the talking.”
My heart speeds up as I nod.
Father uses a clicker to open the gate. I hold my breath as it slowly creaks open to . . . more darkness.
I breathe. Nobody’s there. Not even Buckley. I can sense Father’s relief, too, as he drives us into the compound. Gravel crunches beneath our tires.
We turn right to take the long way around the meetinghouse when, from out of nowhere, a black truck with oversize tires appears in the road and cuts us off. Our tires skid to a stop. My fingers dig into the edge of the seat. It has to b
e Buckley. Light suddenly floods the back of our truck. Tanner bolts upright and turns to see. Another truck blocks us from behind. I freeze. It’s the God Squad.
Buckley jumps from his rig, holding a shotgun even though he has a handgun strapped to his hip. “Get out of the truck!” he shouts.
Tanner’s eyes go wide.
“Father?” I say, my voice shaking.
“Do what they say. Everything will be fine.”
Father and Tanner pile out. There’s four God Squad, dressed in black, standing at attention in a line in front of Tanner’s truck. Each wears a badge, and their straw cowboy hats shadow their slender faces. The fifth one is Buckley. Holding his shotgun, he also wears all black, but with a black felt cowboy hat that clings to his fat head.
My knees buckle when my feet hit the ground. I almost fall, but Tanner catches me. “I’ve got you,” he says, and for a second, I feel a little better he’s here.
Father moves toward them. “What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?”
“Conway,” Uncle Max says, slipping from the shadows.
Buckley smiles with his crooked teeth. My heart stutters.
“There’s an evil in your house.” Uncle Max steps into the headlight’s beam, making his skin look ghostly in the harsh light. His dark suit blends into the night.
“Pardon me?” Father asks, more high-pitched than normal.
“Since you’ve been unable to fulfill your duty as a man in this community, we’re here to help.” The Vulture signals one of the God Squad, who opens the door to the meetinghouse. The entire community bursts out through the opening and floods beneath the stars in a sea of pastel dresses and white button-down shirts. They gather, facing us.
My brothers and sisters are here. My mothers, too.
I find Mother in the middle of our family. Baby Bill sleeps in her arms. She glances at me and then averts her eyes with shame. My face flushes hot. Amy yawns as she treads behind her. And then, there’s Meryl’s glare, matching everyone else’s.
Father approaches Uncle Max and lowers his voice, “I’m sure we can discuss this in private.”
The Vulture caws. “Yes, I’m sure that would be easier on you, wouldn’t it?”
From the light of Tanner’s truck, I can see the veins bulge in Father’s neck.
Uncle Max turns on his heel, kicking up a cloud of dust that floats through the beam of light. “But the community must bear witness to what happens to those who defy the Prophet.” With a scowl on his pale face, the Vulture struts toward Tanner and me.
I step backward, but there’s nowhere to go. The rest of the God Squad shuffle in behind us, blocking us—now there are eight in all—their weapons ready. I clutch Tanner’s rigid arm.
Uncle Max’s beady eyes narrow and focus on my brother. “This is not the first time you have defied the Prophet.”
What?
“The Prophet is familiar with your refusal.”
What? What’s he talking about?
“Hannah Forrester,” Uncle Max calls into the night.
Father tries to pull Uncle Max aside. “This is between you and me, Max.”
Buckley cocks his gun, aiming it at my father.
My heart skyrockets.
“Back away,” Buckley commands, his voice gruff.
Father releases him and slowly puts his hands up, doing as he’s told.
Uncle Max pulls out a handkerchief and wipes the place Father touched. He looks to the crowd. “Hannah, come here.”
My mother gives Meryl the baby and bows her head as she approaches the Vulture.
I sense Tanner’s fist clench next to me.
Uncle Max drops the handkerchief into Mother’s waiting hands. He clears his throat, so everyone can hear. “A priesthood mother must raise her children to be virtuous and good.” He turns to Mother, but her gaze remains fixed on the handkerchief. “Your son has strayed.”
Mother suddenly looks up and shakes her head, fear rising in her eyes.
Uncle Max faces the crowd. “This boy is no longer welcome in this community.”
Tanner trembles.
“He’s an apostate.”
I can’t breathe. An apostate spends the afterlife in the lowest realm of hell. He can never live among God’s chosen again.
Tanner’s shoulders shake.
“No,” my mother cries as she looks at my father.
“The Prophet has spoken,” Uncle Max says.
“Thanks be to God,” the community responds.
What? “No!” I shout.
“Gentry,” Father warns.
“But it’s my fault!” I say. “I wanted to play in the festival.”
Grumbles ripple through the crowd.
My fingers slip from Tanner’s arm as I turn and address Uncle Max. “Please. You can’t do this. He only did it because I asked him to.”
Sharp gasps pepper the air.
“Yes,” Uncle Max says, his beady eyes narrowing. “You left to play the devil’s music, didn’t you?”
My fingernails dig into my palms. “It’s not the devil’s music.”
Uncle Max clucks his tongue at Father. “I see you’ve still failed to teach your daughter how to give proper respect.” His head swivels on his neck until his glare lands on me. “Perhaps she needs a better teacher.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Amy slump against Meryl. Suddenly, I realize I’m letting the evil inside me show again. “I’m sorry,” I say, trying to keep sweet like I’m supposed to, hoping to save Tanner. But I’m too late.
“Hannah, take Gentry home,” Father barks.
My gaze jumps to my brother. He looks lost.
Mother grabs my arm; I yank away. “We can’t leave him,” I plead. “Where will he go? He has no one out there.”
My mother’s eyes dart between the stares of judgment. “That’s not our concern.”
I point to Tanner. “But he’s your son.”
“Come home. Now,” Mother says, firm. The firmest I’ve ever heard her speak to me.
Father won’t meet my pleading eyes. But the rest of the community won’t look away, transfixed, seeing our family drama play out, bit by painful bit.
I turn away from their curious stares. “It’s my fault,” I argue again and move toward Uncle Max, desperate to explain. “You can’t do this to Tanner when it’s not his fault.” The God Squad blocks me before I get too close. Their fingers snatch my biceps, preventing me from going anywhere. I struggle in their grasp, but it only tightens. “Punish me instead.”
“Gentry,” Tanner says. He tries to approach, but the God Squad won’t let him get any closer.
Why’d I let go of his arm? I should have held on tight and never let go.
“I’m leaving,” he says, his voice resigned.
No, he can’t. I feel the tears stinging the backs of my eyes.
“Open the gate,” Uncle Max shouts, and the hinges groan in the distance as the gate opens once more.
Tanner pops open the rear of his pickup to retrieve his violin case. He turns to me with a weak smile. “For what it’s worth, I had fun.”
“Me too,” I whisper, even though I know I’m supposed to stay quiet.
I follow Tanner as close as the God Squad will let me. I watch my brother’s back as he walks through the gate, his violin case swaying in his right hand.
The gate closes behind him. Tears flow down my cheeks, but I don’t dare blink. I don’t want to stop seeing my brother.
From out of nowhere, Mother places a hand on the small of my back. “Come on home,” she says, her voice calm. Too calm.
The gate closes with a final clang, separating my brother from me. Like a deep, wide gorge.
I whip around to face her. Father’s there, too. “I’m the one who wasn’t supposed to leave, but I did. Why didn’t you punish me instead?”
“We will,” Father grunts.
I shake my head. What’s wrong with him? Both of them? “Don’t you even care what happens to him?”
&n
bsp; “You must forget your brother,” Mother says, her voice distant. “He’s dead to us now.”
7.
Anger and sadness weigh me down like a pair of buckets, brimming with water. My parents say I should forget about Tanner. They say he’s a son of perdition, a sinner who won’t take part in the glory of the afterlife. But he’s my brother. He’s our family. And he should be here with us now.
How will he survive out there all alone? Tanner has no food. No water. No money. Nobody but the coyotes to keep him company. What if he starves to death? Or worse?
It’s all my fault. If only I hadn’t gone to the festival, Tanner would still be here.
My stomach rumbles, but I barely feel the hunger anymore. Uncle Max ordered Father to control his family, or else.
I don’t even know what that means, but I’ve been locked in the upstairs room I share with Meryl and Amy for the last three days without food. It would almost be bearable if Amy would talk to me when she comes in each night. But she hasn’t spoken to me since I returned from Santa Fe.
She’s sprawled across our bed in her nightgown, belly down, her chin resting on her arms. Amy stares off into space as her record player spins the same Elvis record for at least the thousandth time. A couple of years ago, Tanner saved enough money to buy the player for her at the Tesuque flea market. It’s her absolute favorite possession, the one thing that’s truly hers.
“Suspicious Minds” starts again, the needle popping and skipping the same line at the beginning of the song.
It’s only the two of us in here until Meryl finishes her nightly chores. I sit on Meryl’s bed and will Amy to look at me. But she’s as still as a deer that senses a predator nearby.
“You want to talk about it?” I ask her again.
She doesn’t respond.
“I don’t understand why you won’t talk to me.”
My sister rolls to her side, away from me, and faces the record player.
Elvis bellows another verse, and I shift, uneasy. Meryl’s bed creaks beneath me. “You can’t stay quiet forever.”
Nothing.
My face flushes. I jump from the bed and cross the room to the record player. I rip the needle from the record; it makes a scratching sound.
“Hey!” Amy says and sits up.
The Prophet Calls Page 6
