Cradle to Grave (7 page)

“Probably. I'm required to attend the selectmen's meeting. I'll speak on her behalf.” He paused, looking at Mrs. Whitney hopefully, but she turned her face away.

“I'd like to accompany you, if I may,” Rees said.

Cooper looked at Rees in surprise. His mouth moved as though he would speak, but he did not. Instead, he motioned to the door with his head and stepped outside. Rees took his greatcoat from the peg and followed him.

Cooper walked a few steps away from the door and turned. “Why do you want to attend? I promise you, Mr. Rees, the town fathers are not going to pursue your friend. In fact, I suspect some of them would assist Sister Moore in removing these children from Dover Springs. They are a constant worry.”

“Because they might become a charge upon the town coffers,” Rees said sarcastically.

Cooper nodded. “That's the most passionately discussed topic.”

“But weren't the children born here?” Rees asked. Usually that was the primary requirement for not being warned out. Then the selectmen would take some responsibility for offering aid. He had seen cases, however, where the parents were from another town and as the children were linked to the parents, the entire family was expelled.

“Yes. All but Jerusha. She was born in Boston. And Maggie was born here. But she was born to a mother from elsewhere, who left immediately after her daughter's birth.” Cooper sighed. “Some of the town fathers want to rid the village of Maggie and her family and this is their best chance. I don't agree but I have no say. Fortunately, Maggie has a few supporters on the board, so they can't come to a unanimous decision. That Shaker girl almost saved us from the debate.”

“I'd like to attend the meeting anyway,” Rees repeated, although he knew better than to hope his presence would shame the selectmen into taking the moral path. Cooper regarded Rees and finally nodded.

“Very well. Stop at my workshop in town. The meeting begins at eight
A.M
.” Cooper turned, his black coat flaring, and mounted his brown cob. Touching his hat in farewell, he urged his nag down the drive.

Chapter Six

Rees turned back to the cabin. Lydia was waiting for him outside the door, her burgundy cloak bright against the weathered wood. “I couldn't spend one more minute in that woman's company,” she said. “Those poor children.”

And poor Maggie, too, Rees thought. But he was wise enough not to speak. Instead he looked up at the sky. It would be dark within the hour but the sky was clear. “We are returning to Mount Unity,” he said.

“We are?”

“Yes. I want to be there tonight, if Cooper's boys arrive to terrorize the Shakers.”

Lydia looked at him and smiled. “I suppose you have your rifle in the back of the buggy.” She gestured behind her. He nodded. Her smile faded. “Oh, Will, do you think they are trying to shoot Mouse?”

“Maybe,” Rees admitted. “It could be just kids, as Cooper seems to think. But I fear their purpose is much worse.”

Lydia clenched her gloved hands together. “Oh dear. The Shakers will not even try to protect themselves.”

“I know,” Rees said, and flicked the whip over Ares's haunches.

They reached the Second Family's central square just after nightfall. The last purple streaks of sunset were fading into black and the entire village was dark except for the ground floor windows of the Dwelling House. Rees guessed that the candles shone from the dining room windows; the community's kitchen was probably located in the basement below. All of the Shakers were making their way toward the dining room for supper. Rees called out to a young man and asked him to look after Ares. Then he and Lydia joined the throng. Rees hoped to find Elder Herman and speak to him before dinner began.

He and Lydia parted, each joining their own gender. Rees saw Lydia worming her way through the crowd and assumed she was looking for Mouse. Then he lost sight of her. Elder Herman was striding purposefully toward the dining room. “Elder Herman,” Rees called, attracting several disapproving glances. But the Elder turned around, pausing long enough for Rees to reach him.

“Why didn't you tell me some of the townspeople were attacking your community?” Rees asked.

“I would not describe it as an attack,” the Elder said, looking around at his fellows. He motioned Rees to one side, out of earshot of his Brethren. “Some young men have been riding through our community shouting threats.”

“And you didn't think to tell me?” Rees said, his tone accusing. He took in a deep breath. “How often?”

“Once in a while.” Elder Herman shifted his stance. Rees recognized an evasion of the truth.

“How often now?” he persisted.

“Almost every night,” the Elder admitted. “It used to be a few times a week but it increased.…” His words trailed away. Rees nodded. The bullies interpreted the Shaker pacifism as weakness and now they wouldn't give up.

“Has anyone been hurt?”

“One of the Brethren suffered a broken arm. He was knocked down by a horse. But he's fine,” Herman hastened to add.

“Huh,” Rees grunted, unimpressed. The Shakers had been lucky so far. “Do they concentrate upon the Second Family or do they ride through the entire community indiscriminately?” Herman shuffled his feet and did not reply. “So, the ruffians concentrate their efforts upon the Second Family. They must know that Sister Hannah lives here.” Rees knew he sounded both grim and angry and didn't care.

“What are you going to do?” Herman said, adding in warning, “Do not kill anyone.”

“No. But I will stand watch the next few nights, until I catch one of them. I'll haul him off to Constable Cooper.”

The Elder heaved a sigh. “Very well. Please, join us for dinner, you and your wife. We'll discuss this further after we've eaten.”

Pressing his lips together, he turned and rejoined his Brethren. Rees followed more slowly. He just couldn't understand why Elder Herman was not more interested in protecting his Family.

There was little talk among the men waiting to enter the dining room, and once they entered, all conversation ceased completely. Since Rees had stayed with the Shaker community in Zion, he understood. Conversation was not permitted during meals. Herman pointed to a chair at his table; Rees joined him there and participated in the prayer. He saw Lydia, seated on the other side of the room, next to Mouse. Despite the lack of the square linen cap, Lydia looked completely at home and Rees experienced a pang. He hoped she did not miss her life among the Shakers. Sometimes he awoke at night, consumed by the fear that she might return to this community and he would lose her forever. The terror usually receded during the day but he felt it now, sharp and intense. Elder Herman cleared his throat, drawing Rees's attention away from the women's side of the hall.

When everyone was seated, the first kitchen Sister brought in bread and began distributing it to the tables. Slices of roast lamb, fragrant with rosemary, and green tomato preserves joined the bread on the table. Elder Herman picked up his fork. Upon that signal, the entire community began eating.

In the silence, Rees thought his hearing seemed even more acute. He listened for anything out of the ordinary, like shouts or hoofbeats in the road outside. Would the Shakers' tormenters come tonight? Or would Rees have to stand guard the next several nights?

The dishes were cleared and the Sisters were bringing in the dried apple pies with pitchers of cream when Rees heard the first thud of horse hooves. The Brethren around him tensed but no one spoke. The hands of the Sister carrying the pie to the table were trembling.

A gunshot cracked through the night. The Sister carrying the pie screamed and dropped it to the floor. Rees jumped to his feet and tore out of the dining room and through the Dwelling House to the road outside.

In the light of the risen moon he could see several mounted figures: three or maybe four. No, here came a fifth, a flaming torch held aloft. The face under the hat was dark and after a second of staring Rees decided the boy had a scarf wrapped around his mouth and chin. Shouting threats, the mob rode toward the Meeting House. In the break, Rees ran across the road to the barn. His rifle was in the back of the buggy, and although he did not intend to shoot anyone, he would fire it over the heads of the pack and hope it scared them off.

In the darkness of the barn, he could not immediately find his buggy and wasted precious seconds searching for it. But once he recognized the scraped side where David had brushed too close to a stand of trees, he was able to grab the rifle and the shot from the back. He loaded in the darkness, a skill he had obtained while fighting in the War for Independence, and ran to the barn door.

The gang had paused at the other end of the street, in front of the Meeting House. All of them carried lighted torches now, and as Rees watched, one of the boys tossed the flaming brand at the building. The torch hit the snow and guttered out.

Rees lifted his rifle and fired into the sky.

He could almost sense the shock; Shakers did not own guns. The horses jumped and twitched and, after a few seconds, the riders turned and rode toward Rees and the exit from the village. As they approached, the boys hurled their torches at the buildings.

Rees quickly leaned his rifle against the stable door and trotted into the road. If he could, he planned to leap at one of the riders and pull him down. Cooper would not be able to ignore this situation then. Rees chose the last to pass by. This horse was big, at least seventeen hands, and slow moving. Rees judged his distance and began to run. The rider did not see him coming. Rees leaped up and grabbed the young man, who was riding without benefit of saddle or stirrups, and jerked him right off the horse's back. The young man smacked into Rees and bore him to the ground. They hit the snow with a thud and lay there winded. The boy recovered first. Rees couldn't truly begin to breathe until the youth pulled himself to his feet. Gasping and choking, Rees sat up and attempted to grab the other fellow's legs. The young man turned and kicked Rees so hard his head snapped back and he fell prone into the snow. One of the other riders had turned back. He stretched out an arm and the boy grabbed it and jumped up behind his friend. They took off at a gallop, the snow flying out behind the horse's hooves. Distant shouting and the sound of approaching hoofbeats heralded another rider.

“Were you the fool firing the gun?” Constable Cooper's voice came out of the darkness. He dismounted and after a minute his hand reached down to help Rees up from the snow. “I was nearby. Heard gunshots.”

“Second shot was mine,” Rees said, struggling into a sitting position. His jaw and the back of his head hurt. “I fired over their heads. Wanted to scare them.”

“You did that,” Cooper said.

“But one of them had a gun.” Rees cautiously levered himself upright. He brushed the melting snow from the back of his head. His hair was already soaked.

“Probably an old musket. Couldn't hit the side of a barn.”

“Someone could still have been hurt or killed,” Rees said, angry that Cooper should so easily brush off the shooting.

“I know.” Cooper turned and looked around him. One of the torches had landed close enough to the barn to set a corner of it on fire. Some of the Brethren were tossing handfuls of snow at the flames but a more enterprising man had found a horse blanket and was beating at the fire with it. Sparks rose up like fireflies and the air smelled of wet ash and charred wood. “I recognized a few of the horses, especially that farmer's cob. I'll speak to that young scamp and find out who his friends were, although I have a pretty good guess. Then the boys' fathers and I will have a discussion. This”—he gestured around him at the cluster of buildings—“will not happen again.” Rees wondered if he could trust the constable to keep his word. Without suspicion and distrust of the Shaker way from the adults of Dover Springs, those boys might not have felt comfortable attacking the community in Mount Unity. But, after all, Rees had no choice but to hope Cooper would resolve this problem.

The Shakers were clustered in front of the Dwelling House. Except for the men who shouted and cried out to one another as they beat out the flames, the people made almost no noise. Probably too terrified, Rees thought.

He followed the constable to Elder Herman and Eldress Agatha. She had buried her trembling hands in her apron. Cooper immediately repeated the same promise he'd made Rees. “Thank you,” said Herman, sounding so shocked Rees wondered if the Elder had even understood what Cooper had said.

“I'll return to town now,” Cooper said, nodding at Rees. “Remember, first thing tomorrow.”

Rees and the two Shakers watched Cooper trudge back to his horse. He mounted and rode away.

“Come inside,” Herman said to Rees. “It's cold out here.”

Rees nodded. Now that the excitement and activity of the last twenty minutes was over, he was shivering. He ached all over. “Very well. I'll be just a minute.” He returned to the stable and stowed his rifle back inside the buggy. He would clean it tomorrow.

Rees joined the people streaming back to the dining room. A low mutter of whispered comments and exclamations accompanied them as they turned to their neighbors to share their horror.

But everyone lapsed into silence as they entered the dining room; the force of the prohibition against talking was too strong to ignore. When everyone was seated once again, Elder Herman, who had remained standing, began to speak. “Constable Cooper has assured me this … tonight's event will not happen again,” Herman said. “We must thank the Lord that no one was hurt. The fire was quickly extinguished and did no real damage.” He paused and added, with a certain reluctance, Rees thought, “We must also thank our guest, Mr. Rees, who scared away those men.…” The eyes of everyone in the room turned his way. Unexpectedly embarrassed, Rees stared at the fat congealing on his used plate. “Finish your dinners,” Herman said. He looked at Rees. “Please accompany me to my office, Mr. Rees.”