The Innocent (25 page)

“Perhaps I do need help,” Sister Edna said as she moved to stand.

Carlyn pulled her up. When the woman wobbled as though her legs were giving way, Carlyn put an arm around her and helped her turn to sit on the bed. The woman was very thin, something else her Shaker dress concealed.

“I did not think to get so old so quickly.” Sister Edna let out a sigh as she stared straight in front of her.

“You’re just feeling bad this morning. You’ll feel better soon.”

Sister Edna turned her eyes on Carlyn. “Empty words that mean nothing. You cannot know what troubles me and so you offer words as useless as a velvet hammer.”

“You are right, Sister Edna. I am useless. Let me go find
Eldress Lilith.” Carlyn started to turn away from the bed, but Sister Edna grabbed her hand again.

“Nay. There are things I am not sure of as yet.” She dropped Carlyn’s hand and gripped her own hands in her lap. “I have ever been sure of things. Of the best way. But now I cannot know. I need to know.”

The bell began to ring signaling the morning meal. Carlyn made no move toward the door, but Sister Edna must have sensed her urge to follow the demand of the bell. “Go. Eat.”

“Nay, I am not hungry.” Carlyn stayed beside the bed in spite of her stomach growling.

Sister Edna almost smiled. “You do have a loose attachment to the truth, Sister Carlyn.”

“I have often skipped meals,” Carlyn said.

“Yea, that is why you came to us, is it not? For sustenance and security. It is plain to see that you have little interest in the Shaker way.”

“I listen.”

“Or pretend to, but you do not want to believe.”

Sister Edna didn’t sound irritated as she usually did when pointing out Carlyn’s lackings as a Shaker novitiate. Instead she sounded as though whether or not Carlyn accepted the Shaker beliefs no longer mattered to her. Still, Carlyn tried to explain. “Your worship is much different from what I always knew at church.”

“Work is worship.” Sister Edna nearly lapsed into one of her Shaker sermons, but then seemed to catch herself. “That you may learn someday, but now, if you are not going to eat, stop towering over me. Sit down.”

Carlyn gingerly sat down on the bed beside Sister Edna.
She knew nothing to say, but Sister Edna didn’t need Carlyn’s words.

“I can barely remember the time before I came to the village and became a Believer,” Sister Edna said.

“But you said you had a family. A husband.”

“It is true. I did have the sin of matrimony to overcome.”

“Why do you think of marriage as sin?” Carlyn wasn’t sure she should ask that, but it was the part of the Shaker life she least understood. It didn’t bother her that the Shakers danced and spun with the fire of the spirit. It didn’t bother her that they shared all in common. That seemed to work well in their village. But she couldn’t understand why they couldn’t have families as Carlyn thought the Bible ordered. Go and be fruitful. Cleave unto your wife. Wasn’t that what the Lord ordered? “I always thought it a blessing to find a person to share life with.”

“Did you find it such? With your husband in the world?” Sister Edna stared at Carlyn.

“I did. We were going to grow old together.”

“And now you have many sisters and brothers to share life with.”

“It’s not the same,” Carlyn said. “Did you not love your husband?”

“I found marriage tedious.”

“Even in the beginning days of your union together?” Carlyn asked.

“That was so long ago, I cannot remember.”

“Had you no children?”

“Yea, that I do remember. With sadness. Three. One gone at birth, two buried before they were six. Fevers. God’s way of turning me to the Shaker way, the same as with Mother
Ann. She lost four babies in England. That’s when the Lord directed her to separate from the world and lead us to love all only as brethren and sisters. Such it is in heaven, and our villages are sweet spots of heaven on earth.” Her voice trailed off.

Then after a weary sigh, she began talking again. “At least that is what I always thought. If everyone followed the rules and stayed united in spirit and purpose, all would be well. Over the years, I took on the duty of seeing, of watching to be sure the Shaker way stayed pure. Those who transgress have no place in our Society. Or so I thought . . .”

“Everybody makes mistakes,” Carlyn said.

“Yea, and those sins are to be confessed. Forgiveness is possible. Correction is necessary. Perfection is possible when one follows the rules.”

“I don’t think I could ever be perfect.”

“But a true Shaker can be. It is my duty to show sisters like you the Shaker path and then watch to be sure you do not slip back into the sinful ways of the world.” Sister Edna grasped Carlyn’s arm as though holding her away from sin even as they sat on the bed together. “And now those of the world have come among us, poisoning us with the vipers of sin.”

“You mean those who set the fire?”

“That and all that followed. And went before. The argument you heard. The lawman coming with his questions. He is insistent on finding answers whether we want them found or not.”

“Why wouldn’t you want the answers found?”

“Some answers are hard for one’s ears to hear. You found that true in the world before you came into the village, did you not?”

“Yea. But I think I’d rather know the answers than to forever wonder.”

“You speak of your husband who went to war and didn’t return.” Sister Edna breathed out a sigh. “The sheriff would like for you to know that answer as well. Your good looks have tempted him.”

“Nay,” Carlyn said quickly, but she knew it was true. Sheriff Brodie did look at her with favor. “He is merely a friend.”

“Again you skirt the truth, Sister Carlyn. Not only is he tempted by you, but I fear you are tempted by him.”

“Nay,” Carlyn said again.

“Time will tell if you will withstand the temptation and pick up your cross and become a proper Believer. Now fetch me my dress. Enough of shirking our duties of the day. We must put our hands to work.” As Sister Edna stood up, she squared her shoulders as though preparing for combat. Perhaps to battle against sin. “The truth will out. Whatever the result, the truth will out.”

22

Mitchell was up before daylight, but Mrs. Snowden was already rattling pans in the kitchen when he came down the stairs.

“Land’s sakes, you’re up early. I haven’t even got the coffee started yet, but I can fry an egg fast as anything.” Mrs. Snowden wiped her hands on her apron and reached for a skillet.

Mitchell held up a hand to stop her. “I need to get going, Mrs. Snowden. A piece of bread and cheese will do.”

“Bothered about that dog, are you?” She pulled the bread out of the bread box and sliced a thick chunk. “I went out back first thing I got up. Thought he might show up for his breakfast, you know, but didn’t see him. ’Course it is still dark out there and that dog’s the same color as night.” She sighed again and wiped her eyes with the tail of her apron.

“It’s all right, Mrs. Snowden.” Mitchell patted her shoulder. “No need to get so worked up over a dog.”

“I suppose not. Not with the worse things that happened
out there in that Shaker village. The fire and all. And a man dead.” She looked over at him as she unwrapped a block of cheese. “In the light of that, it seems past foolish to shed tears over a dog, but I can’t help wondering what might come of the poor animal. He was a dear old dog, and I feel bad letting him get away like that.”

“It wasn’t your fault. Asher’s a smart dog. He was waiting his chance.”

“He’s off hunting his mistress, I’m guessing.” She put the cheese on the bread and handed it to him. “Not much of a breakfast. Eggs would be no trouble and wouldn’t take five minutes. The stove’s done heating up.”

“No, no. This is fine.” Mitchell took a bite to prove it.

“Do you think he’ll find her? The dog, I mean.” She poured him a glass of milk.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he headed out to her house. If he doesn’t show up around here, I’ll ride out that way to look for him.”

“I’ll say a prayer for you, Sheriff. That you find Asher and whoever made the trouble out there at the Shaker town too.” She pulled her biscuit bowl out of the cabinet. “Florence will be here later. I could send her down to your office with your lunch.” She smiled over her shoulder at him. “A man has to eat.”

“Don’t bother with that. If I’m close by, I’ll come in and grab a bite.”

“You do that. Florence will want to tell you how sorry she is about Asher getting away. That girl has a heart of gold. And she’s a good worker too.” She pulled out the flour bin and scooped some into her bowl. “She’s going to make somebody a fine wife someday.”

“I’m sure she will.” Mitchell chugged down the milk and put the glass on the table. “But a sheriff does best single.”

“Single is no account. A man needs a woman to take care of him. Even those Shakers out there have womenfolk taking care of them, cooking their meals and washing their clothes. Not the way most men would want to live, I’m thinking, if you get my drift. But guess as how it works for them.” She plopped a big chunk of lard into the flour. “Not the way somebody like you would want to end up. An old man with no sons to carry on your name.”

“Now, Mrs. Snowden, you’d best use your matchmaking talents on somebody else. I’m not ready for settling down.”

“Humph.” She plunged her hands into her biscuit bowl and began working the lard into the flour with her fingers. “A man sees the right girl, he’s ready in a shake of a lamb’s tail. I’ve heard tell that happens now and again out there at the Shaker village too.” She sent Mitchell another look over her shoulder. “Could be, pretty Carlyn will be turning one of those Shaker men’s eyes.”

“Or a dozen of them.” Mitchell managed a laugh as he went out the door, but it was forced. He didn’t want to think about Carlyn turning any man’s eyes, because the truth was, she’d already turned his. Mrs. Snowden was right. If Carlyn gave him any encouragement, he would be ready. More than ready.

That was why he had to find Asher. So she’d have a reason to talk to Mitchell. So he could hang on to hope that maybe someday, if she found out her husband had been killed in the war, then she might eventually look at Mitchell with favor. A lot of ifs and maybes, but he didn’t want to deny their possibilities. Nor did he want to tell Carlyn he’d lost her dog.

He should have asked Mrs. Snowden for one of yesterday’s biscuits in case he caught sight of Asher in the dawning light. Not that he really expected to.

Even so, his heart lifted a little as he headed down the last stretch of walkway to his office. But no dog was curled in front of the door or anywhere around the building. He went back up the street and down it again, searching through the shadows. He even walked around the Whitlow place as the sun came up, but while the dog next door raised a ruckus, Mitchell didn’t see any sign of Asher.

On the way back to his office, a few men stopped him to ask about the fire. He told them what happened without elaborating, then noted what they had to say. A man could learn some unexpected things by listening even if what was said wasn’t exactly backed up by fact. A wisp of smoke instead of a whole cloud of it still indicated a fire somewhere.

At the office again, he found a note to go see the judge about a case coming up. By the time he was finally free to ride out to Carlyn’s place, the sun was high in the sky.

He was almost to the livery stable when Sam Duncan reined in his horses and called to him from the seat of his farm wagon. “Sheriff, glad I found you.”

“What’s got you in town on a Wednesday, Sam?” Mitchell shaded his eyes against the sun and looked up at him. The man’s mouth was turned down and his eyes tight. “Something wrong?”

“Somebody made off with three of my cows. Stole them right out of my barn lot last night. Went to milk and they was gone. I come after you to track down the rustlers ’fore the trail gets cold.”

“You sure they didn’t just break down the fence and
wander off?” Mitchell had investigated several stolen cow cases that turned out to be nothing more than strayed cattle.

“They didn’t break through my fences, Sheriff.” The farmer’s face tightened into an even fiercer frown. “Somebody took them, and we’re wasting time sitting here talking.”

There was nothing for it but to get his horse and follow the farmer out to his place clear on the other end of the county. Whether it turned out the cows were standing at the barn door when they got there or not, that was his job. Looking for dogs would have to wait.

Riding back to the Shaker village would have to wait too. He had crimes to solve there, but first he’d have to chase down Sam Duncan’s cows.

What he really needed to be chasing down, or who, was Curt Whitlow. Mitchell was sure the man could give him some answers. But Mitchell would have to find him first. He had too much to find. Curt. The person or persons who burned down the Shaker barn. Asher. Maybe even his heart that he’d lost to the woman Asher was surely trying to track down.

All that would have to wait. Somebody had to go find Farmer Duncan’s cows, and Mitchell was the only somebody available. Perhaps it was time to hire a deputy.