The Innocent (9 page)

“Now, don’t let my sorrowful talk ruin your appetite. You go on and eat that cobbler. I was just thinking it has to be different for poor Carlyn. Not knowing, you know. Ambrose Kearney didn’t come home, but nobody knows what became of him either. They say he’s missing. What kind of word is that? Missing.” Mrs. Snowden shook her head. “What’s a woman supposed to do with that? No body. No grave. It’s like he walked away to the army and just vanished in thin air. It’s no wonder the girl is confused about whether she’s a widow or not.”

“Do you think she is?” Mitchell dug into his cobbler again.

“Well, of course she is. Ambrose Kearney was a good man and he loved his pretty little wife. The only thing that would have kept him away from her was dying. But you can understand why she hangs onto hope that, well, I don’t know what. It’s right pitiful when you think about it. She can’t go on with her life for wondering. I mean, I’m sure she wouldn’t have any trouble finding another man eager to step into Ambrose Kearney’s shoes.” Mrs. Snowden gave Mitchell a curious look. “You say you saw her today?”

“Right.” Mitchell wanted to avoid saying why.

But Mrs. Snowden guessed. “That Curt Whitlow is bothering her, ain’t he? That man. I don’t know why his wife puts up with him. But then I suppose you make your bed, you
have to lie in it. Comfortable or not. And Gladys never has to count her pennies when she goes to the general store.”

Mitchell took a drink of his coffee and waited for whatever else Mrs. Snowden had to say. Once rolling, she generally kept talking until she told everything she knew about a person. This time was no different.

“Carlyn was a Wilson before she married, you know. Daughter of Reverend Wilson. Now there was a man bent on doing the Lord’s work, come what may. Went all over the countryside preaching and down in Tennessee too, I’m told. Just left his family and went. Claimed if he was doing the Lord’s work, then the Lord would take care of the rest. But I’m telling you, pretty words, spiritual or not, don’t make a very good supper. I have as much religion as the next fellow, but it appears to me the Lord gives a man a family, he expects that man to provide for them.”

“Sounds reasonable.” Mitchell finished off his cobbler and picked up his cup. “So do they live around here?”

“No, the Reverend heard there were sinners in Texas. They packed up and headed west a few years back.”

“No other family around these parts?”

“Not that I ever heard of. They showed up here after they married. Guess the Reverend heard about sinners here then.” She laughed a little at that. “Why are you asking? Is that Curt Whitlow putting her out of her house?”

“She owes him money on it,” Mitchell allowed. He’d probably already said too much, but he wanted to know about Carlyn Kearney.

“Money she ain’t got no way of getting.” Mrs. Snowden shook her head. “She still have that dog?”

“She has a dog.”

“I’ve heard tell it’s a vicious thing. As apt to bite you as not.”

“It didn’t bite me, but it wasn’t overly fond of Mr. Whitlow.”

Mrs. Snowden snorted. “Dog must be smarter than people say.”

Mitchell peered over the top of his coffee cup at the woman. She rarely had an ill thing to say about anyone. “Has Mr. Whitlow given you trouble?”

“Curt Whitlow gives everybody trouble. The man would sell his grandmother for a pittance to put coin in his pocket.” She stood and began gathering up the dirty dishes. “Praise the Lord, I never had to have any dealings with the man. He’s quick to loan to a person when hard times come to call.”

“But that’s good, isn’t it? To give a man a hand when he needs it?”

“I doubt he’s ever given the first man nothing. Or woman either. He just sits back and waits till things get harder and then calls in his loan. When the money’s not there, he takes over the property.” She dropped the dishes down in her dishpan with a clatter. “It’s all legal, I’m guessing. But everything that’s legal ain’t right. You know that’s true, Sheriff Brodie. At least in the Lord’s eyes.”

Mitchell took a sip of the tepid coffee. “Could be, but I better stick with the law and let the preachers figure out the rest.”

“Some things can’t none of us down here on earth figure out.” Mrs. Snowden sighed. “I’m glad I took my pappy’s advice. Neither a lender nor a borrower be. Then can’t nobody own your next dollar or leave you wanting their last dollar.”

Now Mitchell turned away from the window and tried to push thoughts of the young widow out of his mind. But he couldn’t. At the end of the week, he’d have to make another visit to be sure she’d vacated Whitlow’s house. And if she hadn’t? He didn’t want to think about that.

Maybe he could ask around town and see if there were any positions open for a young woman. It wasn’t his job to find her a place, but he’d feel a lot better about putting her out of her house if he knew she had somewhere to go. He took another look out the window at the barbershop. After breakfast, he’d get that haircut. Billy Hogan had his ear to the ground. He might know if anybody was looking for help.

An hour later, Mitchell took off his hat and settled in the barber’s chair.

“Wondered when you’d get around to coming by.” Billy draped the cape around Mitchell’s shoulders. “Been needing a cut for a while.”

“Things have been busy,” Mitchell said.

“Yeah, I heard Curt Whitlow made you go with him to that poor Kearney girl’s house out near Oak Spring Church.” Billy combed and clipped.

Mitchell made a sound that could mean yes or no. Billy was like Mrs. Snowden. He didn’t need much encouragement to keep talking.

“Ambrose Kearney was a fine young man. You never knew him, did you?” He looked at Mitchell in the mirror across from the chair.

“No, can’t say as I did,” Mitchell said.

“He made a bad deal on that house, but guess he didn’t know better than to borrow money from Curt.”

“Lots of people have.”

“And lived to regret it.” Billy pushed Mitchell’s head forward to trim the hair along his neckline.

“You one of those?” Mitchell peeked up at the barber in the mirror.

“Naw. I paid the man what I owed him. I don’t have to give him free haircuts no more. He sits in my chair, he pays these days.”

“Sounds reasonable.”

“You see him last night or this morning?” Billy paused, his scissors still in the air behind Mitchell’s head.

“No, not since Friday.”

“You don’t say.” Billy began snipping Mitchell’s hair again. “I figured he’d be knocking down your door.”

“Why’s that?”

“Got a nasty dog bite, according to Doc Baker. Said it looked like the man had been in quite some tussle when he showed up at his door yesterday afternoon to get his arm stitched up. Mud and blood all over his clothes.”

“Doc Baker been to get a haircut this morning?” Mitchell asked.

Billy laughed a little. “Not today, but word gets around.”

“He say what dog got Curt?” Mitchell knew which dog he was suspecting, but he didn’t have much sympathy for the man. He told him to stay away from the Kearney woman.

“Haven’t heard if he did. Thought maybe you had. I figured Curt would be after you to do something about it.”

“I haven’t been to the office yet.”

“Could be he’ll hunt you up yet.”

“Could be.” Mitchell hoped not.

Billy was quiet a minute as he combed and cut. Then
without raising his eyes from Mitchell’s head, he said, “I hear that Kearney widow has a dog.”

“Lots of people have dogs. The town’s full of them.” Mitchell kept his eyes away from Billy’s mirror.

“True enough,” Billy agreed. “I used to have an old dog here in the shop with me. Fine company on slow days, but then he wasn’t vicious. Couldn’t have had him if that had been the case.”

Mitchell didn’t bother saying Carlyn Kearney’s dog wasn’t vicious as long as nobody bothered his mistress. He’d worry about taking up for the dog once he heard Whitlow’s story. It might not have been her dog. He sincerely hoped not.

When Mitchell asked about jobs in the town that a woman might be able to do, Billy shook his head. “Can’t think of anything offhand, but I’ll keep an eye out. Who’s it for? That Mrs. Kearney?”

He hadn’t wanted to mention Carlyn Kearney’s name, but Billy had a way of figuring out more than a man said. “Right. I hear she doesn’t have any family around here to help her out.”

Billy unwrapped the cape from around Mitchell and swept the hairs off Mitchell’s neck with his shaving soap brush. “I haven’t seen her for a spell, but best I remember, she’s a pretty thing. I’m surprised she’s not already married again.”

“She’s not as sure she’s a widow as everybody else seems to be.” Mitchell got out of the chair. “Her husband’s listed as missing, not dead.”

“Yeah. She’d be better off knowing for sure she was a widow, but she’s not the only woman in that boat. I read in the papers that there are thousands of soldiers unaccounted for. War’s a sorry thing.”

Mitchell walked down to his office, glad Curt Whitlow wasn’t there waiting for him. Then, that bothered him too. If Whitlow wasn’t demanding something be done about the dog attack, there had to be a reason. One Whitlow wasn’t ready to admit.

Later, for his peace of mind, Mitchell would ride out to Carlyn Kearney’s house to check on her. It didn’t have anything to do with how pretty she was. It was his job.

But then, that afternoon before he found time to make that trip, she came to him. Riding in a Shaker wagon. With a rope around her dog’s neck.

8

The Shakers were kind, even Eldress Lilith with her somber face, but that didn’t mean they would bend their rules. Not for a newcomer. Certainly not for a dog.

Carlyn followed the eldress to the imposing brick building beside the post office. She left Carlyn on the walkway while she went to the door to summon this Sister Muriel. Then she came back to stand beside Carlyn to await the sister who would have the necessary answers. Carlyn kept her hand on Asher, as silent as the eldress. She bent her head and considered prayer. To perhaps remind the Lord she had a dog. But he already knew that.

At last a Shaker sister came out the large double doors. She was dressed much the same as the other Shaker women, in a faded blue dress with the wide white neckerchief lapped over her chest and a long checked apron practically covering the front of her skirt. She looked to be near the same age as the woman beside Carlyn, but instead of the stern stoniness of Eldress Lilith’s face, this new sister’s face was
soft and gentle. Even so, she hesitated on the broad stoop and visibly shuddered when she noticed the gun Carlyn had once more tucked under her arm and pointed at the ground. Then she looked even more distressed when Eldress Lilith nodded toward Asher.

“Sister Muriel, the young sister has sought us out for help,” Eldress Lilith said.

The woman came down the steps, a concerned smile hovering around her lips. “My dear sister, you do bring problems with you.”

“I didn’t know about your rules against dogs.” Tears jumped to Carlyn’s eyes as she was all too aware of the familiar comfort of Asher leaning against her. “I can leave.”

“Nay, let’s not be hasty,” the sister said.

“She has not told me her trouble.” Eldress Lilith spoke up. “Only that she has nowhere else to go.”

“Yea, those in the world suffer many trials.” Sister Muriel answered the eldress but kept her eyes on Carlyn, who was beginning to feel like the lost soul they obviously thought she was. The lost soul perhaps she was.

But no, her mother had assured her, once in the Lord’s hand, he didn’t drop any of his children. Not unless they willfully pushed away from his love and ran from him. Even then, he kept his hand outstretched for his child to return. Just as the prodigal son’s father had in the Bible story.

“Is that true, my sister?” Sister Muriel’s voice was as gentle as her face, as she reached toward Carlyn but stayed her hand short of touching her.

Carlyn drew in a breath. “I thought the Lord was pointing me toward your village as the answer to my need. But he knows I have a dog.”

“Yea, the Lord knows everything and Mother Ann is ever ready to help those who desire to follow the Shaker way.” Sister Muriel looked over at the eldress. “Is that not true, Eldress Lilith?”

“Yea,” the eldress said. “If the Lord sent you here in answer to your prayers, young sister, then he will give you an answer for your distress over your dog.”

Sister Muriel smiled fully all across her face. “If you ask with faith.”

“And the willingness to accept the answer,” Eldress Lilith added without a smile.

“Why can’t he stay here in one of your sheds or barns?” Carlyn looked around. There were buildings everywhere.

“We have no dogs.” Sister Muriel’s voice was kind but also firm. “It is not the Shaker way. But there are many such dogs in the town. One more can surely find a place there.”

“He won’t leave me to go into the town,” Carlyn said.

“The animal does seem attached to you.” Sister Muriel studied Asher, then raised her hands up toward the heavens. “Let us ask for an answer.”

Eldress Lilith lifted her hands too, but neither of the women spoke a word aloud. Carlyn lifted her free hand high alongside them. It wasn’t the attitude of prayer she was used to, but it didn’t feel wrong. Hadn’t her mother sat at the table with her hands open in front of her to receive the Lord’s answers? Answers she received time and again. And accepted without wishing for different ones. At least not as far as Carlyn knew.