Vaught, Cheryl PLURAL BRIDE TO BE 1 DEDICATION To Sondra Klein, my ex-Mormon younger sister (AKA Judy) August 23, 1953 to November 3, 2015 Vaught, Cheryl PLURAL BRIDE TO BE 2 Plural Bride to Be A Novel By Cheryl Vaught Historical Fact Two hundred law enforcement officers arrested the heads of 36 polygamous households and nine women on July 24, 1953 in the town of Short Creek (currently called Hildale, Utah and Colorado City, Arizona) on the Utah/Arizona border. Instead of making direct allegations of polygamy, they used extensive charges of conspiracy to violate laws from statutory rape to misappropriation of school funds. This raid was the climax of “Operation Seagull,” planned for 26 months and included investigations of a host of Mormon polygamy splinter groups in both states. * * * Most of the history of human experience is lost, like the sounds of acorns rustling through leaves to the forest floor. Fictional twelve-year-old Karen Hardy's summer as a plural bride to be is a whisper as soft as a falling acorn, but not lost. Her story is alive in these pages. Copyright © 2017 Cheryl Vaught. All Rights Reserved Vaught, Cheryl PLURAL BRIDE TO BE 3 The only men who become Gods, even Sons of God, are those who enter into polygamy. Brigham Young Journal of Discourses, vol.11 p. 269 August 19, 1866 Vaught, Cheryl PLURAL BRIDE TO BE 4 CONTENTS 1 Cleanliness is next to Godliness 5 2 Betrayal 13 3 Outside Agitator 19 4 Give Away 29 5 Grasping the Mist 40 6 The Ko Ko Mo Club 48 7 Fenced In 55 8 Family First 68 9 Come to Meeting 77 10 Wives and Sisters 90 11 Beyond the Fence 97 12 The Jewish Gentile 112 13 A Question of Worthiness 117 14 Son of Zion 128 15 Youth Temple Excursion 134 16 A State Bird from God 143 17 The Shame of Womanhood 150 18 Many Are Called 153 19 Few Are Chosen 160 20 Dissension in the Ranks 172 21 New Day Dawning 175 22 The Word of Wisdom 183 23 Friend 191 24 Foe 200 25 Falling Fences 208 26 We Gather Together 217 27 Law and Disorder 230 28 It’s a Boy! 238 29 Reunion 246 30 Here We Go 254 31 Home Sweet Home 264 32 Fired 271 33 Dealing with the Devil 276 34 Meant to Be 283 35 Hit the Road 297 36 See You Later, Alligator 302 Acknowledgments 309 Vaught, Cheryl PLURAL BRIDE TO BE 5 Chapter 1 Cleanliness Is Next to Godliness Deep in the basement of the Salt Lake City Mormon temple, the doors parted into a gold and white marble palace as blinding as sun on new snow. Karen and Amy along with the other Beehive girls crept into the opulence, shamefaced, hiding behind arms crossed against their breasts, shivering and buck naked beneath the cutoff long johns. “Sit along this bench,” Sister Viva directed them. The slick stone protrusion was like satin over ice against Karen’s legs. Also wearing short granddaddy union suits and looking like a row of rag-tag seagulls on a window ledge, the Deacon boys skittered along an adjacent bench. Sighs and squeaks of bare feet on glossy stone echoed in the otherworldly ice cave. Thousands of chandelier crystals caught and sprinkled lights on the water in the gold baptismal font which rested on the hindquarters of twelve life-sized oxen, also of gold. The statues stood guard in a pit, rumps bumping center, metallic faces nosed out, blind to linked spears corralling them. Karen’s knees trembled between the goose-bumpy girls on either side of her. Nervous energy drenched the air and filled Karen’s lungs, probably causing her bellyache and Amy’s earlier shushing, also the boys’ wild antics to let off steam. Any blunder at a time like this would feed the ward gossip mill back home and result in surefire humiliation. Most frightening, what if Vaught, Cheryl PLURAL BRIDE TO BE 6 unseen spirits were watching, ready to spread rumors to the Celestial Kingdom, and ultimately, to Heavenly Father, the Lord God Almighty of the universe! Youth leaders whispered in a knot and cast stern glances at the kids who assumed an outer calm as brittle as ice crust on a water bucket. Three fatherly Melchizedek Priesthood holders made their entrance, not wearing the ugly skivvies, but decked out in stark white slacks, shirts, and slippers. Their faces radiated practiced humbleness yet, they strode with absolute authority across the hall. Two of them shared Karen’s bleached coloring. The third was bronze skinned and toothy with black bramble hair and a similar wild overgrowth bristling from his neckline and crawling down his arms. Karen concluded be must be a blood thirsty cannibal witchdoctor, converted from some exotic island like those in National Geographic photos. She clutched her writhing belly. The two palefaces assumed command posts above the pit next to a marble throne fit for Goliath. The bronze savage peeled slippers off monster-sized feet, then crossed a bridge and waded into the font waist-deep. Brother Dale beckoned to Enoch. “You’re first.” The frozen hall amplified the brother’s murmur, echoing it into a ghostly moan, and sending shock waves over the gooseflesh on Karen’s arms and legs. For once Enoch didn’t have a finger up his nose or poking anyone’s ribs. His normal deviltry seemed drained from his face, darkening his freckles against pasty skin and lips. He winced with each movement as he sidled over the gold oxen. The boys’ suits were worse than ugly, they must also be painfully cramped in the crotch. Karen smiled to herself. Vaught, Cheryl PLURAL BRIDE TO BE 7 In spite of loathing Enoch, she almost pitied him on show as the prime example everyone must follow. Thankfully, she wouldn’t have that privilege. The cannibal raised one hand to heaven. The other reached for Enoch’s warty hand. Knowing the flesh eating man would soon touch her, maybe even pass on a wart outbreak from Enoch, Karen gagged. The island witchdoctor prayed aloud in a sing-song chant, “Brother Enoch Zurflew Brown, having been commissioned of Jesus Christ, I baptize you, for and in behalf of, Lorenzo Thadias Ackerman, who is dead, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.” On hearing Enoch’s name, Zurflew, girls giggled behind their hands, and boys chuckled and hissed. Brother Dale nosed in for a stare-down with one mocking boy who had elbowed those on either side. The boys’ shared smirk wilted. Karen knew the bratty boy’s name Zurflew sentenced him to a lifetime of ridicule and she silently cheered her own middle name, Ellen. The cannibal braced Enoch’s spine while the young Deacon pinched his nose and tipped back into the water. Quickly, the man jerked him upright. Enoch sputtered and mopped his face. Youth leader monitors nodded confirmation that every hair and thread had been submerged. Enoch would not require a re-dunking for the deceased Brother Ackerman. Karen remembered jeering tales of kids sticking out one toe and having to undergo multiple humiliating re-submersions. She must stay completely immersed for the spotters’ benefit when her turn came. The savage in the pool shoved Enoch like a chunk of driftwood at the stairway. The boy emerged from the water, gauzy fabric stuck like wet tissue to his shivering behind, exposing a Vaught, Cheryl PLURAL BRIDE TO BE 8 startling purple handprint birthmark which cupped one beefy check. Spectators gasped before he turned the birthmark around, plopped it on the edge of the giant’s throne, and folded his arms. The paleface officiators pressed hands to his bent head while one belted out a prayer. “Brother Enoch Zurflew Brown, in the name of Jesus Christ, we lay our hands upon your head, for and in behalf of, Lorenzo Thadias Ackerman, who is dead, and confirm you a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and say unto you, receive the Holy Ghost. Amen.” The words “Receive the Holy Ghost” thundered throughout the stone walls like a commandment from the Lord’s own lips. Enoch bumbled and half slid down the watery staircase to be baptized for another dead spirit. That baptism was followed by another and another, each dunk picking up speed. The procedure replayed itself like film flopping in a malfunctioning movie projector as Enoch staggered up and back, gasping for dear life between dousings. In all, he provided salvation for ten dead males before Brother Dale aimed the dazed boy back toward the dressing room. Next, Dwayne made his way to the font. Thanks to Enoch, he knew what to expect. The rite for each dead soul took only minutes, but to Karen names dragged on forever. Once, the hurried baptizer sloshed him so quickly, Dwayne failed to pinch his nose. He flailed wildly. Then his face popped out of the water, snorting and strangling on bodily fluids and spitting font water. Monitors shrugged off the close call. To Karen’s count, Dwayne had provided the path to glory for ten more dead old-timers with funny names. But none was as peculiar as the one for Dwayne’s present-day best friend, Enoch Zurflew. Karen memorized each word and gesture. The breakneck speed didn’t quell the epidemic of tics and twitches among the long suffering Beehive girls and Deacons. Brian was the last boy, not a shrimp like all the rest, but actually taller than Karen, an absolute dreamboat despite the Vaught, Cheryl PLURAL BRIDE TO BE 9 frightful outfit.