The Innocent (13 page)

Carlyn bent her head and did not answer. How easy it was to read that verse in the Bible about taking no thought for the morrow. Sufficient are the evils of the day. But how could one not worry about evils to come on the day at hand or the morrow? Blessings. She needed to look for the blessings.

When they entered Elder Derron’s office, he continued
writing in the account book on his desk a moment before he carefully positioned his pen on a blotter and turned to greet them. He did not smile. “Come sit down, Sisters, so that we can determine what must be done.”

He motioned toward the chairs hanging on the wall. When Sister Muriel took down one of the chairs, Carlyn did the same. She wanted to ask why the chairs were hung on the railing, but she feared Elder Derron might have the same dislike of questions as Sister Edna. He did appear to favor silence, since he let several moments pass without speaking even after she and Sister Muriel settled into their chairs. Sister Muriel seemed unbothered by the lack of words as she folded her hands in her lap and waited.

The elder’s steady gaze made Carlyn want to shift uneasily in her chair, but instead she sat very still. He looked to be in his middle years, with few lines on his solemn face to reveal fondness for either smiling or frowning. He wore a white cotton shirt with suspenders to hold up his dark trousers, his outfit no different from that of the other Shaker brothers she’d seen. While he was not a large man, he had a sturdy look. Yet he seemed to fit at the desk, ready to handle whatever business concerns came his way.

His eyes narrowed a bit as though trying to determine what her looks might reveal about her. She wondered if she might yet be turned away in spite of Sister Muriel’s assurance that no sister in need was ever refused a place in their society.

She was relieved when at last he spoke. “Sister Muriel tells me you seek to live among us.”

“Yes.” Carlyn remembered Sister Edna’s yea too late, but the elder didn’t seem bothered by her lapse.

“Here in our Society, all things are held in common with
no individual ownership. The needs of all are met and each member contributes to the whole. So new converts are asked to give over their property when they join with us.”

“I brought little with me. My mother’s Bible and a few baubles. Nothing of worth except to me.”

The shadow of a frown chased across his face. “One should not put worth in things, my sister. Only in deeds and actions.”

“Yea.” This time Carlyn remembered the Shaker yes.

“Why have you come among us?”

“I told Sister Muriel.”

“Now you must tell me.” His voice was insistent, a man accustomed to being obeyed. “Things spoken directly into our ears are better understood.”

“Very well.” Carlyn clasped her hands in her lap. “My husband bought a house before the war and we were paying for it by the year. We lacked four payments when he joined the army.”

“On which side did his sympathies lie?”

“He fought for the Union.”

“Did he give his life for the Northern cause?” The man studied Carlyn’s face as though probing for answers beyond those she was speaking.

“The army says Ambrose, my husband, is missing. His fate is unknown.” Carlyn forced out the words. Perhaps it was good she had to say them so often in the last few days. She needed to look straight at the truth and accept it.

“According to the news reports, many are reported such. War is a grievous affair and one all men should abhor, as we do here at Harmony Hill.” His expression didn’t change as he ran his hands up and down his thighs.

Silence fell over the room again. Carlyn didn’t know
whether to speak or not. She peeked over at Sister Muriel, serenely waiting for the elder’s next words.

Then, as if he’d just remembered her name, he said, “Ambrose? Ambrose Kearney was your husband in the world?”

“Yes.” She forgot the Shaker yea again in her eagerness. “You knew him?”

“Yea. A fine young man. I once thought to convince him to join our number here, but he was not ready to give up worldly pleasures.” The elder stared at her as though realizing she might be the worldly reason Ambrose had not become a Shaker. “Is not your house the one a few miles down the road from here?”

“It is.” Carlyn looked down at her hands. “Or it was.”

“I see.” The elder tapped his fingers on the edge of his desk. “And whom did you owe on the house?”

“Curt Whitlow.”

The elder’s fingers stilled in the air above the desk for a moment. “Ah, Mr. Whitlow.” If his face had seemed devoid of expression before, now it was even more so as he spread his hand flat on the desk. “Have you given over the house to him already?”

“The sheriff gave me until Friday to surrender the property.”

The elder almost smiled. “Then it is not too late to perhaps save what is yours. We will make payment of what is owed and then you can sign over the property to our Society. I assume you also had furniture and other household plunder.”

“A few things.”

“And livestock?”

“A cow and some chickens.”

“Did you make arrangements for their care before you came to our village?”

“I did not. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Guilt stabbed her. How could she have forgotten to ask Mrs. Smith to come get the cow and chickens? At least the cow had almost gone dry and wouldn’t be suffering from a full udder. “I guess I wasn’t thinking.”

“Don’t be distressed, my sister. We will collect them and bring them here.” He looked pleased for the first time, perhaps because now he knew she had not joined them empty-handed. “Would you like to accompany us to the house to gather your belongings?”

“Not unless it is necessary.” Carlyn had no desire to go through the sorrow of seeing her lost home again.

“Nay, I know the house. I will take care of arrangements and make the necessary payment to Mr. Whitlow. Or to the sheriff.” His lips turned up in a slight smile. “You made a good choice coming among us, my sister. Once we have assessed the value of your property, I will draw up a paper for you to sign. Then you will no longer have to concern yourself with anything of the world.”

“And if I should ever leave here?” She couldn’t believe she was thinking about what she might own, when the day before she had felt stripped of all possessions except her mother’s Bible.

“We would hope you are not considering a return to the sinful world when you only just put your feet on the proper path here.” His eyes bored into Carlyn, but she didn’t look away from him. After a moment, he went on. “But if such a sorrow were to happen, you would be given the value of your property minus whatever must be paid on your behalf. Is that acceptable?”

“Yea.” And with that word she stepped fully onto the Shaker path.

12

Tuesday morning, Asher sniffed the scraps Mrs. Snowden put in a pan for him, then lay down with his head on his paws without taking the first bite.

“Poor thing must be missing his mistress,” Mrs. Snowden said. “Maybe you can bring him by later to see if he will eat then. Florence is coming today to help with the cleaning. Seeing her might cheer up the dog. You know, since she’s young like Carlyn. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, boy?” Mrs. Snowden patted the dog even as she gave Mitchell the eye.

Mitchell planned to find plenty to keep him too busy to make it by the boardinghouse. He could get the dog something to eat, but he couldn’t take Asher everywhere with him. So after they got to the office, he led the dog into one of the cells. The dog turned sad eyes on him, but that wasn’t any different from how he’d looked all morning.

“It’ll be all right, boy.” Mitchell scratched the dog behind the ears. “You’ll forget her after a while. We both will.”

Asher turned his back to him and lay down with a huff
of breath. Mitchell blew out a sigh to match the dog’s as he pulled the cell door closed. “Then again, maybe not.”

Before the day was over, everybody in town knew he had a dog. Mrs. Snowden must have told Billy Hogan. So Mitchell wasn’t surprised when Curt Whitlow waylaid him as he headed to the office that afternoon to get Asher. Nor was he surprised to hear a volley of barking coming from the jail. Decidedly unfriendly barking.

“Somebody told me you had a dog.” Whitlow cradled his heavily bandaged arm against his chest.

“I do.” Mitchell stopped in front of the door. “Sounds like he’s going to be a great watchdog.”

“Are you out of your mind, Brodie? You’re hired to protect the citizens, not terrorize them with a vicious dog.”

“What makes you think he’s vicious?”

“You have ears. Listen to it.” When Mitchell turned the doorknob, Whitlow went pale and stepped backward. “Don’t let him out.”

“Don’t worry. He’s locked up.” Mitchell stuck his head inside the door and yelled. “Down, Asher!” The dog hushed barking at once. Mitchell turned back to Whitlow. “He seems an intelligent animal.”

“Asher?” Whitlow fished a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the sweat off his face. “Did you call it Asher?”

The way Whitlow’s hand was shaking made Mitchell remember how Carlyn’s hands had trembled as she danced around answering his questions the day before. He balled up his fists and considered how much pleasure it would give him to punch Whitlow right in the face, but he couldn’t dole out punishment himself. That was for judges and juries. He couldn’t even arrest the man and throw him in jail. Not
without Carlyn doing more than merely hinting the man had assaulted her.

“Yes, Asher.” He uncurled his fists. “Not a common name for a dog. It’s from the Bible, if I remember right. One of Jacob’s sons.” Mitchell pushed the door all the way open. “You want to go in?”

Whitlow didn’t move. “So you do have her dog.”

“If you mean Mrs. Kearney, yes, I do. She asked me to take the dog since she was losing her house and had no way to keep him.” Mitchell leveled his eyes on Whitlow. “Now, is there something I can do for you today, Curt?”

“You can get rid of that dog before it kills somebody.”

“I wouldn’t worry about him. His bark is worse than his bite.” Mitchell kept his eyes on Whitlow’s face and let the silence build between them for a moment. “What happened to your arm?”

The man slid his eyes away from Mitchell’s face. “Dog bite.”

“No wonder you’re so nervous. What dog got you?”

“A stray. Out on the road. I shot it. Dead.” Whitlow pointed toward the office. “I’ll shoot that one too if it bothers me.”

“That would make Mrs. Kearney very unhappy.” Mitchell watched Whitlow’s face. “I think you’ve made her unhappy enough already.”

“All I did was ask her to pay what was legally due me.” Whitlow’s voice was a little too loud. “Where is she?”

“Out of your house. That’s all that matters to you.”

“Well, no. She still owes me money.” A frown darkened the man’s face.

“You have the house. I think you’d best forget trying to
get any other payment from her.” The man was despicable. “Of any kind.”

“What’d she tell you?” Whitlow’s face was flushed and sweating again. It was warm, but not that warm.

“That she wanted me to keep her dog.”

“That’s all?” Whitlow’s eyes narrowed.

“No, that wasn’t all.” Mitchell met his stare.

“You can’t believe everything a woman tells you. Especially one who owes money.” Whitlow looked down and fiddled with a loose edge on his bandage.

“She doesn’t owe me money.”

“No, but you’ve obviously been taken in by her looks.” Whitlow glared at him. “Agreeing to take in that dog. Mark my words, Sheriff. You’ll come to regret that.”

“Could be.” Mitchell just wanted the man gone. The very sight of him made him sick.

“Billy Hogan says she’s gone to the Shakers.”

“Billy sometimes knows.”

“Well, if that’s true, I better head out to my house to make sure they don’t strip it clean. Those Shakers take everything that’s not nailed down when somebody joins up with them.”

“You have to stay away from Carlyn Kearney’s place until the agreed-on week is up.” Mitchell put iron in his words.

“They’ll rob me blind.” Whitlow was almost shouting.

“The things in the house belonged to her, didn’t they?”

“I don’t know what she had in the house,” Whitlow said. “But those Shakers, they’re liable to tear the planks off the shed if they decide they want them. I have the right to protect my property.”

“The Shakers abide by the law. They won’t take what’s not hers.”

“You can’t know that for sure, Sheriff. I’ve had dealings with those men out there. They’re a strange lot and not above doing whatever suits their purposes.” Whitlow yanked out his handkerchief again and then stuffed it back in his pocket without using it.

“All right. I’ll ride out there tomorrow to check the house for you.”

The man stalked away without another word.

Inside, Asher stood with his nose between the bars, a growl rumbling in his throat.

“I know, buddy. He deserves every tooth mark you gave him, but you can’t go after him now. Not if you want to stick with me.”

Asher stopped growling, stepped back, and waited for him to open the cell.

“You’re one odd dog.” Mitchell wrapped the rope around the collar he’d fashioned out of an old belt that morning. “It’s almost as if you understand everything I say.”