Free Blood of the Faithful by Michael Wallace

don’t see why he needs to get to Panguitch—it seems dumb to hand over food and supplies so we can check out a ghost town.”
    “So you do think he’s making mistakes,” Rebecca pressed.
    Stephen Paul looked uncomfortable at this. “I hate to question the man. Maybe the food thing is a mistake, but I don’t know for sure.”
    “Of course it’s a mistake,” Ezekiel said. “And why are we surprised? Jacob is only human, he’s not divine.”
    “He’s the prophet,” Miriam said, unable to keep silent any longer. “The Lord won’t let him lead us astray.”
    “What makes you say that?” Ezekiel asked.
    “It’s in the scriptures. The prophet may not lead the church astray. Tell him, Elder Smoot,” she urged. “Your son seems to need a basic education in gospel doctrine.”
    Smoot cleared his throat. When he spoke, he sounded hesitant. “The prophet won’t lead the church astray—we’re promised that. But that doesn’t mean he won’t try. If the prophet tries to lead the church astray, the Lord will strike him down, and a new man will be put in his place.”
    “Is that what you’re advocating?” Miriam was growing angry. This was verging on apostasy. “Jacob has saved us. He defeated the Kimballs, he threw the army out of the valley. He saved my life personally. I took a bullet in the lungs, and he brought me back from death. He’s my husband’s brother. Who invited me here? What idiot thought I would turn on him now?”
    “But Jacob isn’t perfect,” Sister Rebecca said. “He can’t know everything. When he ordered the attack at the reservoir, we almost got wiped out by army irregulars coming up from the south. He didn’t see that coming.”
    “What’s more, we never finished the job,” Ezekiel said. “It only left the problem for later.”
    “That’s right,” Smoot agreed. “We could have cleared out the squatters once and for all. They were bloodied, we could have put them on the run. Now they’re dug in, armed, and ready to fight back.”
    “I’ve heard enough,” Carol said. The shadows hid her face, but her voice was distraught. “This entire discussion is giving me a dark impression. And I don’t want to see where it’s going.”
    She rose to her feet and tromped down the stairs from the porch. She untied her horse. “Honey, are you coming or staying?”
    “I, um, I think I’ll stay a bit longer.” Stephen Paul sounded uncertain, worried.
    “Follow the spirit,” Carol said. “It will speak the truth to your heart.” She climbed into the saddle.
    As she did, Peter Potts followed suit. “I’ve heard enough too,” he said as he climbed onto his horse. “I won’t speak against you, but I won’t be a party to it either.”
    Moments later, he was trotting down the road after Carol Young.
    Peter hadn’t spoken up until that point, and his sudden departure was surprising. Next to the Smoots, the Potts family had the deepest history of rivalry with the Christiansons. Miriam had assumed that Peter was here because he was already known to have doubts about Jacob. Maybe he’d even called this meeting. He seemed as likely a candidate as any of them.
    “How about you?” Ezekiel asked Miriam as the sound of their horses’ hooves faded away in the darkness. “Aren’t you going to run off too?”
    “Not at all. I want to hear your treachery with my own ears. That way I can testify at your excommunication trials.”
    “Let’s all settle down,” Rebecca said. “There’s no treachery here. We’re trying to decide if we need to do anything, that’s all. That might mean nothing more than sitting down with Brother Jacob and explaining our fears.”
    “Jacob would be hurt if he could hear us talking,” Stephen Paul said. “He might even offer to step down. But he wouldn’t call a church court either. He’d say we had a right to free discussion.”
    Miriam grunted. That much was probably true.
    “What do you think about the reservoir scheme?” Elder Smoot asked