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Show in my father's house/ 75 upstairs to warn the others and met my mother coming down, a load of laundry in one hand and my oldest brother, Saul, clinging to the other. "The FBI are all over the house and grounds, Hannah," Aunt LaVona whispered. "They've surrounded us. Where's Rulon?" No one seemed to know. Aunt Sarah regained her composure, opened the kitchen door and invited the agents inside. Several local police officers, including a matron, accompanied them. With their pistols and brusque manners, they seemed equipped for an extensive man-hunt, and their faces fell when my father entered the livingroom, cheeks pale and eyes red-rimmed, but in full self-control. He listened to the charges with half an ear, knowing what they said well in advance: He was charged with unlawful cohabitation. As he read the warrant, his wives clustered around, wanting to reach out with reassuring touches, but not daring to show their concern before the officers. ..."May we have a few moments alone? A family member is sick in bed. If we could go upstairs...." my father said. The agents followed them and waited outside as they met in Aunt Rachel's room, where she convalesced with the birth of her fifth child in about as many years. They knelt around her bed, clinging tightly to each other's hands and prayed for deliverance, After the prayer, my father said, "Now, dear ones, we must decide which of us will go to jail. I must go, of course -- |