SEVEN

On a bench overlooking the Cumberland Gap town square, Billy Jasper sat beside Sheriff Clarence Carney. Carney was in his midfifties, lean and perpetually serious. Billy was more uncomfortable than usual, because this was the first time that Carney had made a point to spend time with Billy in the two weeks since the town Elders had chosen Billy as deputy.

“What do you see?” Carney asked Billy. Although he was a large man and easily three decades older, Carney stood a full head shorter than Billy and a hundred pounds lighter. Still, from Carney’s tone of voice, there was no doubt the smaller man was in control.

It wasn’t just Carney’s serious tone and ramrod posture that made people nervous. It was the hard-set face he’d earned through thirty years of enforcing every law, down to the slightest infraction.

“What do you see?”

Billy didn’t like questions. This one was worse because there was no obvious answer. And there was a vidpod on the bench between them recording the conversation. Bar Elohim, if he wanted, would be able to hear Billy’s answer. He knew, like everyone in Appalachia knew, that Bar Elohim had access to information on all vidpods.

“Talk, boy,” Sheriff Carney said, showing, as usual, irritation at Billy’s deliberateness.

Billy didn’t like this about himself either. As a boy, so large he had often been mistaken at a distance for a man, Billy had been so meek about his size and strength that he’d become a target, unable to find anger when other boys goaded him. Fights weren’t fights; he towered above them and would placidly let them pummel him—sometimes two or three at a time—until they were exhausted. Billy was also aware, however, that the people of Cumberland Gap considered him an ox when it came to intelligence. Time and again, he saw others give glib answers that brought smiles or laughter, a skill he envied. Billy wished he could learn to answer without taking time to consider whether it was the best and truest answer possible. Maybe people would stop saying he was slow but nice.

“I see Cumberland Gap,” Billy said in answer to Carney’s vague question. Was he supposed to mention details, like the empty mockingbird nest in the tree in front of them? Or that the little birds had left the nest two days earlier, and one had fallen from the nest and Billy had barely gotten to it before the courthouse cat pounced?

Was he supposed to point out the apartment above the store across the street, where he knew Carney had a man imprisoned and was keeping it a secret? Was he supposed to mention that Mrs. Andrews on the other side of the street was wearing a shawl across her face, even though the weather was blazing?

“You see men and women walking down the street in peaceful conversation,” Carney said. “You see horse-drawn wagons. You see clean sidewalks. Well-built stores. You see harmony.”

“Yes sir.”

Mr. and Mrs. Andrews had stopped to look through a store window. Both shaped like pears. Mr. Andrews was a dog-kicker. Billy didn’t like that. Mrs. Andrews sometimes had a bruise on the side of her face. Probably had one under the shawl right now.

To Billy, that didn’t suggest harmony. Nor did the screams that had echoed through town last night, from the apartment above the store. But arguments tightened Billy’s stomach, so he found it easier to agree with Sheriff Carney than point out Cumberland Gap wasn’t all harmony. Besides, he knew why the Elders had endorsed Billy as deputy. Carney didn’t want deputies who thought for themselves. Neither did the Elders. Like an ox, Billy was easy to control, and that didn’t bother him. He just wished people would overlook him. But he was too big for that.

“What don’t you see?” Carney asked.

By now, Billy realized Carney was going to answer his own question, so he held off replying. That was good. Billy didn’t have to think through all the possibilities before answering. He’d been working at the livery before the Elders chose him for a deputy. He’d enjoyed the livery. Not many questions there.

“You don’t see fear,” Carney said. “You don’t see fear because you don’t see crime. It’s no accident that the Elders don’t allow towns to grow to a population of more than three thousand.”

Appalachian government policy restricted town size because small towns meant accountability, in sharp contrast to Outside, where the anonymous lifestyles in large cities bred sin.

“Let me repeat. You don’t see fear because you don’t see crime,” Carney said. Carney crossed his legs and leaned back against the bench. “What you see is good, and nothing bad. That’s the result of living in a society that follows the literal Word of God.”

Billy nodded. Nothing to disagree with there.

“It’s why the Elders fought for freedom from Outside,” Carney said. “And it’s taken two generations to ensure a place where men follow the Word of God. If you want to see all of this destroyed before the Second Coming, all you need to do is invite the snake back into the garden.”

“Sir?”

“Adam and Eve had all they needed. But what fruit did the snake tempt them with?” Carney’s voice rose. “The snake told Eve that if she ate the fruit from the Tree of Good and Evil, that she would have knowledge like God. The woman wanted God’s wisdom. She wanted God’s knowledge. She wanted to be like God.”

Billy knew this story very well from all the Bible lessons in church. Trouble was, every time it came to the part about the man and woman realizing they were naked, it got him to wondering what a naked woman looked like. Then he’d think some more on what a person might see if women wore dresses made of leaves, like the Good Book described. Especially what a person might see on a windy day, unless the leaves were sewn really securely. None of those thoughts were good, he knew, but they were difficult to push away.

Carney continued, oblivious, of course, to the sinful thoughts that Billy had not invited into his mind. “What you’re not often told was that the woman ate of the fruit before giving it to Adam. They didn’t each take a bite at the same time. She was corrupted by that first bite. Instead of protecting the man, she wanted him corrupted too and offered some to him, so she wouldn’t be alone in her sin.”

Carney paused and reached up to put his hand on Billy’s shoulder. Man to man.

“There’s a woman like that in town right now, son. Mrs. Shelton.”

Mrs. Shelton? Billy blinked a few times. Old Mrs. Shelton?

“I learned a long time ago not to let appearances fool me,” Carney said. “She has been corrupted by knowledge, the kind that God sees fit to keep from us, and she wants others corrupted by it too.”

Carney gestured at the town square. “If that corruption has a chance to spread, you won’t see all this harmony in front of you. That’s why it’s so important to keep the snake from getting loose anywhere in Appalachia.”

“Yes sir.” Billy was still trying to comprehend. Why Mrs. Shelton? He’d grown up just down the street from her. She’d made pies for his family when his mother was sick.

“Bar Elohim is the shepherd of Appalachia, just like the men in each town who carry his authority and serve him and report to him. Men of law, like you and me. God has given us shepherds authority over the sheep to keep them from going astray. And you and me…”

Another pause. This one was longer. Billy took his eyes off the empty mockingbird nest and looked down at Carney and saw Carney staring at him. Waiting.

So this was a question, Billy realized, although it hadn’t been asked like a question. Right after being asked a question that wasn’t a question. This was why Billy preferred people to ignore him.

“You and me, we help guard the sheep for the shepherds,” Billy answered. Carney had taught him this on the first day. “That’s our duty.”

“We guard the sheep from Outside.” Carney nodded. “Sheep are in danger if they ever leave the flock. It means our duty is to keep sheep where they belong. Inside the safety of the fence. Mrs. Shelton is trying to get people in this town to break down the fence and go Outside. She’s a snake on the loose, tempting people to reach for the forbidden tree.” Carney’s lips tightened. “You know what I mean, don’t you?”

“Books, sir.”

“Not only that. A Bible.”

“A Bible! And she reads…” Billy didn’t finish verbalizing his thought. Only preachers were allowed access to a Bible, and their copies were only audio versions. Laypeople couldn’t be trusted with God’s Word because laypeople didn’t have the knowledge to truly understand and interpret it. Possessing a Bible meant a life sentence at a factory. Or maybe even execution by stoning. Billy had a difficult time comprehending that the accusations might be true. Mrs. Shelton?

“Hold out your vidpod,” Carney directed Billy. “I’m going to transfer the arrest warrant.”

It was in the shirt pocket of his deputy uniform. Billy struggled with the button because his fingers were so thick. He finally dug out his vidpod, which was dwarfed in his hand, and turned it toward Carney’s vidpod.

The beep of a completed transfer sounded a second later.

“I’m sending you to arrest her, Billy. Handcuff Mrs. Shelton to the chair before you let her listen to the warrant. Don’t talk to her. Find the books in the house. Bring her and the books back to the town jail. And the Bible.”

Books. This was important. Too important.

“How will I know which one is the Bible? I can’t read.”

“Bring all the books.” The sheriff grimaced.

“Sir, are you sure I should be going alone?”

Carney’s eyes flicked to the apartment above the store across the street. If Billy had to guess, whatever was happening in there was even more important. Something strange was going on. It had to do with the bounty hunters who had come into Cumberland Gap in the night, and the screams since. There was an undercurrent of whispers in town. As usual, Billy had been excluded.

Carney’s eyes returned to Billy. “She’s just an old woman, son. You should be able to handle it yourself. If not, maybe the Elders will have to send me a new deputy.”