Righteous04 - The Blessed and the Damned Read Online Free Page A

were a few scrubby trees, sagebrush, cactus, and clumps of desert grass that bent in the breeze to etch lines and circles in the sand.
    She held a book—make that a personal journal—and a pen, which she tucked beneath her chair as they approached. Jacob’s eyes dropped to the book. Was it a diary of a woman who had found peace in the solitude of the desert, or was it a list of the world’s injustices, of the faults, real and imagined, inflicted on her over the years? He studied her face, the grim set to her mouth, the gray, stringy hair held back with a rubber band.
    “Sister Charity,” he said. “It’s good to see you again.”
    “Brother Jacob.” Charity’s expression looked like she’d eaten something chalky. “And Eliza. Alive.” She didn’t sound surprised. “My daughter said they held a funeral. Put up a gravestone and everything. Seemed fishy to me. Well, I can guess why you did it.”
    “And are you going to tell Taylor Junior?” Jacob asked.
    “Of course not. For one, I haven’t seen him in years. Glad of it, too. But I don’t care if you brought Eliza. You’re still wasting your time, I’m not going back.”
    He kept his tone light. “No gun this time. That’s a good sign. Maybe you’re softening.”
    “I’m not softening. And you’re not going to convince me.”
    “We’re not here to convince you. You made it clear last time.”
    “Not clear enough, apparently, because here you are.”
    Jacob shook his head. “Don’t worry, Sister Charity. I’ve given up trying to dislodge you from this place. But we need your help.”
    “My help? What kind of trick is this?”
    Eliza stepped out from behind Jacob. “It’s no trick. We do need your help. And you won’t just be helping us, you’ll be helping innocent women and children.”
    Charity glared. Eliza didn’t look away. After a moment Charity returned her gaze to Jacob. “Fine, what kind of help?”
    “I’m looking for someone. I think you know who, and I think you know where.”
    The woman didn’t answer. The engine of his car ticked behind them. The sun was climbing in the sky, and as soon as the wind died it would be a hot day.
    “Sister Charity,” Eliza said gently. “You’ve seen it. Maybe those boys weren’t your kids, but you lived in the same house. You know what they were like, and you know how they turned out. Is it fair to those women and children to abandon them to him?”
    “Very well,” Charity said. “Let’s talk about those women and children. What happens when you get your way? You’re going to leave them to fend for themselves, is that it?”
    “I’m going to offer them what I offered you,” Jacob said. “What I’m
still
offering you. Nobody will expect you to grovel. Nobody will demand that you swear eternal allegiance. All we’re offering is a family and a home. Is that so bad that you’d rather suffer in the desert, alone?”
    For a moment he thought she’d break. It couldn’t be easy living out here in a broken-down motor home, isolated from her friends and family. Even her own children, grown though they were. The loneliness must be crippling, so why was she so stubborn?
    “It doesn’t matter,” she said at last. “Those boys belong to my husband. So do I. Don’t ask me to betray my covenants.”
    “I’m not asking you to do that, Sister. I’m asking you to
honor
your covenants. You also covenanted to obey the prophet.”
    “The prophet doesn’t speak to me. And he doesn’t want me to come back.”
    There was some history between Charity and his father. Jacob’s mother claimed that Charity had been engaged to his father whenthey were both teenagers. To be his first wife. Father’s choice. She must have been different then. Age and years of crushing responsibility had turned her into a disappointed shell of a woman, had hardened a sour expression onto her face.
    Jacob was running out of options, except for the hard one.
    “This is the will of the prophet,” he said.
    “Is