The Innocent (14 page)

The dog lifted one of his ears.

“We’ll go out to her place tomorrow. Could be she’ll be out there helping the Shakers pack up her stuff.”

The next morning, the dog ran alongside Mitchell’s horse. Mitchell was getting used to the dog’s company, and Asher had completely won over Mrs. Snowden, who enticed the dog to eat by feeding him bacon from her hand.

“You shouldn’t lock the poor thing up in jail.” She had looked distressed when she found out that’s where Mitchell had left him yesterday. “Let him stay here with me in the kitchen.”

But the dog was eager to be along on this morning trip. His ears were up and his tail ready to wag.

Mitchell felt some of the same anticipation. He was fighting it, but Whitlow was right. Mitchell had let a pretty face turn his head. Not that he planned to do anything about it. He didn’t. The woman was not available. She was in love with her husband. It didn’t matter if the man was dead. He was alive in Carlyn Kearney’s heart. On top of that, she was a Shaker now. That closed every door to romance even if she did find out her husband being missing in the war meant he had moved on up to his heavenly home.

Maybe it wasn’t all bad. He hadn’t thought of Hilda once in three days. It was good to be ready to move on with his life. To imagine a house with a picket fence around the yard where kids could play with a good dog. He would have to be careful not to let Mrs. Snowden know that, because Florence wasn’t part of those dreams. But he could imagine Carlyn Kearney there, whether it was reasonable or not.

The place looked deserted when he rode up to the house. No chickens scratched in the yard. No cow grazed in the pasture. No pretty widow stood in the door with a gun in her hands. Even so, he got off his horse and went up the steps. Asher trailed along behind him, his ears flat against his head now. The dog didn’t have to go in the empty house to know she wasn’t there. His nose had already told him.

When Mitchell knocked on the door, it creaked open like a ghost was inviting him in. The house was stripped of any sign of the woman living there. No chairs or tables. No dishes and pans. Everything was gone. They must have moved her out the day before. Still, somehow her presence lingered. A faint odor of lavender water. Or perhaps that was simply his imagination.

The dog pushed past him to sniff through the empty rooms. Mitchell followed him into the kitchen. A fine dusting of ashes showed where the cookstove had been. Asher padded away to a different room, but Mitchell stayed there. He could almost hear the echo of the happy times Carlyn and her husband might have had before the war tore them apart.

Asher came back in the kitchen to pull Mitchell away from his imaginings with a whine. When Mitchell looked down at the dog, he dropped something at his feet.

“What’d you find, boy?” Mitchell reached down to pick up a handkerchief that must have been missed by the Shakers. He held it to his nose. Definitely lavender water.

The dog raised his nose toward the ceiling and let out a mournful howl.

“Poor boy.” Mitchell stuffed the hankie in his coat pocket and touched Asher’s head.

He went out the back door and around the house to his horse. He’d seen all he needed to see, including Whitlow’s shed with all the planks intact. He started to mount up when he noticed the dog had taken up position by the front door like a sentry on watch.

Mitchell whistled. The dog didn’t move.

“Come on, Asher. Let’s go.” Mitchell clapped his hands.

The dog turned his head away, as though listening for a different call.

“You can’t stay here, you crazy dog.”

The dog looked back at him but didn’t budge.

Mitchell sighed. At least he’d been smart enough to bring the dog’s rope with him, because he couldn’t leave him here. Asher cowered at the sight of the rope, but once Mitchell had it tied to his collar, he reluctantly came off the porch.

“She’s gone from here, Asher.” Mitchell stroked the dog’s back. “She won’t be back. But Whitlow will be out here checking on his planks, and he’d shoot you in a minute. Then what would I tell her if she ever does come back for you?”

Sometimes people left the Shakers. Shaker leaders came to town from time to time looking for members who’d slipped away in the night. Usually a couple tempted away from the celibate life. Mitchell touched the handkerchief in his pocket. If only he could figure out a way to tempt Carlyn away from the Shakers.

When Mitchell rode back into town, two Shaker men were waiting in front of the sheriff’s office. Mitchell slid off his horse and attached the rope to Asher’s collar again. He’d taken the rope off after he’d walked his horse and the dog a little ways up the road. He expected the dog to run back toward the house, but he didn’t. With his ears down and his tail low, the picture of dejection, he nevertheless stayed with Mitchell.

The Shakers climbed down from their wagon. Only one of them, the younger man, gave Asher a glance. The older Shaker completely ignored the dog. He was all business as he stepped toward Mitchell.

“Sheriff Brodie, we meet again. We spoke concerning one of our converts some weeks ago.” As though he didn’t expect Mitchell to remember, he spoke his name. “Elder Derron and this is Brother Mark.”

“Of course, Elder Derron.” Mitchell reached his hand out and the elder shook it without enthusiasm. The other Shaker stayed a few steps behind the elder. “What can I do for you? Have you had more trouble with Mr. Jefferson?”

Jefferson had been distraught and sure his daughter was
being coerced to join the Shakers, but Mitchell had seen no evidence of that. She was of age and had seemed content there in the village.

“Nay, Sister Willene’s worldly father has at last accepted that Sister Willene has made her decision to live a Believer’s life.”

Elder Derron lifted the corners of his mouth in a slight smile. Something about the man had bothered Mitchell when he met him that first time at the Shaker village, and the same feeling was poking him now. The man’s face was too solemn, almost stony, but the inability to smile was hardly a crime.

“That’s good to hear.” Mitchell didn’t think it was all that good. The woman had been young and with much of life before her, but if she wanted that life to be in a Shaker village, who was he to say that was wrong? For her anyway. He was readier to judge the right and wrong of Carlyn Kearney spending her life at their village.

As if the man read his thought, he said, “We come on behalf of a different sister. Sister Carlyn Kearney who joined with us this week. I understand you gave her until Friday to pay the amount she is indebted to Curt Whitlow.” The elder stared straight at Mitchell. “Is that what you told her?”

“I said she had until Friday to vacate the property.”

“It seems reasonable that, whether it was spoken or not, it could be assumed that if payment is made before that time, the property will not have to be surrendered. We are prepared to pay off the loan on the house with the going rate of interest added to the overdue amount.” There was no give in his voice or posture.

“That is reasonable.” Mitchell didn’t smile, but he felt like it. While he hated the thought of Carlyn becoming a Shaker,
he wasn’t sorry Curt Whitlow was going to be bested in this transaction.

The elder looked at the dog for the first time. “I was told our young sister came to the village with a dog. Is that the one?”

“Yes, she asked me to keep him for her. He’s a fine dog. He would have been a good addition to your village.”

“Nay, we have no use for pets there. Only animals that earn their feed.”

Mitchell laid his hand on Asher’s head. “This fellow has done that and more, but he’s not particularly fond of Mr. Whitlow.”

“Yea. Some say dogs are good at reading a man’s character.” The Shaker’s face didn’t change, as if he had done no more than comment on the sun shining down on their shoulders.

“So I’ve heard.”

“Now if you have a few moments to accompany us, we can complete our transaction and return to our village.” It was more an order than a request. “We feel it best serves our interests to have a witness of the payment.”

The Shaker man had obviously had dealings with Whitlow before.

13

The Shaker village wasn’t a bad place. Carlyn told herself that each morning when she knelt by her bed to offer her morning prayers. Sister Edna told her she must pray but did not tell her what to pray. Even if she had, she couldn’t have known if Carlyn followed her directions since the prayers were offered up silently.

Carlyn had no idea what Sister Edna or the other sisters around her were praying or even if they were. They assumed a posture of prayer just as Carlyn did, and so it seemed only reasonable they were thanking the Lord for the blessing of a new day. Carlyn needed to be doing the same instead of letting her thoughts swirl around like autumn leaves caught in a whirlwind.

But if she came up short of proper prayer thoughts in the morning, she had more opportunities at meals and during designated times for rest and contemplation as the day went by. All in silence. At mealtimes, they marched into the eating rooms and stood at their seats. When all were at their places,
everyone knelt to silently offer thanks for the provision of food. Then they stood again with their right hands on the chair backs. At the chosen moment, like a giant centipede whose legs all worked in unison they pulled out their chairs and sat down at the tables.

No one talked. Eating was serious business and silence necessary for good digestion, according to Sister Edna. Serving bowls were put in front of each group of four diners to eliminate the necessity of asking for something to be passed. The silence was broken by the clang of forks on plates or spoons scraping the bowls when a new portion was dipped. A cough, a slurp of water from a glass, even her own chewing sounded loud in the odd silence.

But it wasn’t only during meals that silence ruled. Idle chatter was discouraged except at something called Union Meetings. There a few sisters and brothers sat in chairs a proper distance apart in one of the sleeping rooms and talked about whatever they wanted, even things happening in the world.

Sister Edna told Carlyn she could not take part in such meetings until she’d been at the village longer. That was just as well. Carlyn was having enough trouble figuring out proper behavior around the sisters. So it seemed wisest to lower her head and hide beneath her bonnet whenever any brethren were near. Sister Edna warned her often enough not to be a temptation to brothers new to the village.

“A pretty face can cause a man to fall off the proper path and slide into sin. It would be well to remember true beauty rises from the soul intent on doing good with a mind dwelling on heavenly thoughts. That is the beauty Mother Ann sees and rewards with bushels of love.”

“Yea.” Carlyn had learned it was best to agree with whatever Sister Edna said and not give voice to the questions circling in her head. The question she wanted most to ask, but dared not, was how long she had to suffer Sister Edna by her side. The sister had a way of making Carlyn long for the silent moments of prayer just so her ears would be free of the woman’s voice.

Silence didn’t bother Carlyn. At her house, she had lived with silence except for the sounds of nature and the words she spoke to Asher. She missed how he ever had his ears up ready to hear whatever she had to say. She liked to imagine Sheriff Brodie talking to him now. The sheriff wasn’t married, so perhaps he appreciated a listening ear, albeit a furry one.

Of course, not everyone talked to dogs as though they could understand. Her father would condemn the practice as worse than foolish. Her mother, on the other hand, would simply shake her head and remind Carlyn that the best listener was the Lord, a mighty help in times of trouble. Not that Carlyn was in trouble now. She was safe among the Shakers.

She’d get used to sleeping in a room with seven other women. She wouldn’t always feel hemmed in on every side and that she had to grab for fresh air to breathe. She’d get used to how the Shakers talked and her tongue would stop stumbling over saying yea and nay. She could hide her hair under the Shaker cap and properly pin the neckerchief to cover her figure.