OCR Text |
Show (>7f "What are the police doing to protect you?" "Nothing," my mother put in. "Don't they think you deserve to be protected? What do they think - that you're l i k e him? Do they think, oh, one outlaw is like another?" My face grew hot as my voice rose. But my f a t h e r ' s voice was gentle, placating. "There i s n 't much they can do about mere t h r e a t s . As I said, t h e y ' l l have to k i ll him someone before the law w i l l make -W^ea. answer." him "If the law makes thon- answer even then," I muttered. "They don't allow you your r i g h t s anyway. Polygamists have always been second or^third class c i t i z e n s . For one polygamist to k i l l another in Utah would be just l i k e a Negro being lynched in the South in the twenties and t h i r t i e s . Everyone will say we're animals, immoral nuts k i l l i n g each other off." My father sighed. "You may be right, daughter. But we must leave i t in the hands of the Lord. We do have one friend - a sympathizer with our b e l i e f s - on the police force. Perhaps that "ill be enough." "I hope i t ' s enough. Daddy, you must do something to protect yourself j " He shook his head s l i g h t l y . "What would you have me do? 4man can't walk in fear a l l his l i f e and s t i l l have the s p i r it of God." "But you should do something - someone should guard you a tall times. Or maybe you could carry a gun!" Even as I said *» the notion seemed absurd. I couldn't imagine my father wielding a§un. Nor did I want him to - i t would be against his character, S^fs*, He stood for Life, not Death. |