The Refuge Page 7

  “Yea.” The sister set the tray down on a small table. “Is there anything else you need?”

  Flynn wasn’t sure if she was addressing him or the Shaker brother. She looked tired and little wonder. She was obviously far along with carrying a child. That wasn’t something he expected to see at the Shaker village with their celibacy rules. Perhaps those rules were sometimes bent.

  9

  I had to smile at the man’s eagerness for the food. Brother Hiram’s lips even lifted a bit. I bent my head to hide my own smile. I feared Brother Hiram might report I was being too worldly to Eldress Maria. That thought boosted my smile as indeed my very shape shouted worldliness. A shape the stranger did note. His face registered surprise at seeing an expectant mother in Shaker dress.

  My smile did not linger. My feet hurt and my back ached. While I did not mind working in the kitchen, it was tiring. I had been moved from the sewing room to the kitchen in a rotation of duties. At least the eldress had instructed Sister Reva, the one in charge of the Gathering Family kitchen, to assign me the easiest chores.

  That was why Sister Reva sent me with the food to the Trustee House. “Walking shouldn’t be that hard on you.”

  I wondered if she had ever carried a child, for I never noted sympathy for my condition in her words, but that didn’t trouble me. Sisters Ellie and Helene were ever ready to ease my burdens. Sister Helene would slip from her bed after the candles were snuffed out to massage my feet. I told her not to, that she needed her rest, but she persisted. I wondered if she imagined that was what a husband might do for his wife.

  I knew not whether that was so. I couldn’t remember my father being extra attentive to my mother. Her baby-carrying months seemed no different than other months, simply something ordinary. Of course, nothing was ordinary about a woman in Shaker dress carrying a baby.

  I had asked Eldress Maria if other women had come into the village in the family way, but she considered my question sinful curiosity I should strike from my thoughts. Much was expected to be cast from one’s thoughts in this staid village.

  I continually reminded myself I was blessed to be here after Walter died. But I could not shake the feeling that if we had not come to the village, Walter might be the one massaging my feet at night.

  To keep such thoughts at bay, I studied the man who appeared to be awaiting some word from Brother Hiram before eating his meal. A big man, he was strong across the shoulders as my Walter had been. He looked directly at me and I again lowered my head. But not before I saw something more than curiosity in his dark brown eyes. A deep sadness lay there that I recognized, since the same sort of sorrow lurked within me.

  Brother Hiram stepped between the man and me. I was surprised to hear him saying my name yet again.

  “Quite the coincidence, Mr. Keller, but Sister Darcie was once wed to the man we spoke of earlier.”

  My eyes flew up to the man’s face. What did he know about my Walter? But before I dared speak, Brother Hiram went on.

  “The one who brought the horse in question to our village and had the misfortune to be on the riverboat when the vessel’s boilers exploded.”

  Misfortune. The very word made me want to scream, but my months with the Shakers had drilled some restraint into me. At times, I wondered if I even remembered the woman I used to be before I slipped on the Shaker dress.

  “A tragedy.” The man turned his gaze from Brother Hiram to me. “I am sorry for the loss of your husband, ma’am.”

  The sympathy in his voice touched something deep within me, as though he understood that I’d lost half of myself when I lost Walter. Two become one. The Bible stated that plainly.

  Tears knotted in my throat and all I could do was nod. I kept my head bent low to hide my face under my bonnet brim. At times, a bonnet could be useful for more than protecting one from the sun.

  Brother Hiram was speaking again. “Yea, a sorrow. But I was thinking more of the problem with the horse.”

  That made me frown. How could any kind of problem with a horse matter more than the loss of a good man like Walter? But the Shakers were ever practical. Walter’s horse was a fine animal. Sawyer. An odd name Walter pulled from his river days. A sawyer was a downed tree floating under the water with a branch now and again breaking the surface to warn a river man to be watchful. Not that Sawyer had ever given Walter trouble. I couldn’t imagine what problem Brother Hiram might mean.

  When both men looked toward me as if expecting me to speak, I asked, “Is something wrong with Walter’s horse?”

  Brother Hiram’s eyes sharpened on me when I did not say Brother Walter, but he did not change my words. Instead he merely explained. “The horse appears to have no will to work.”

  “Is Sawyer ill?” The thought of Sawyer being unwell brought a new knot of tears to my throat. Sister Ellie had warned how carrying a child could turn one’s emotions on end. That was certainly true on this day for me.

  “He gives no sign of a physical ailment or soreness in his joints.” The man spoke. “He seems sad.”

  “Sad?” Such seemed a strange thing to say about a horse, but then Granny Hatchell was fond of saying there was more to animals than we could know. All at once a sweet memory of a dog I’d once had popped into my mind. That dog had a way of reading my thoughts. More tears pricked my eyes. I needed to harden my heart. Ring had been gone far too many years for tears now.

  “Yea, a bit odd,” Brother Hiram said. “But perhaps you can help Mr. Keller in his quest to know more about the horse.”

  I looked at the man. “What do you want to know?”

  “Did you have other horses in your barn or lot?” The man appeared to have forgotten the food behind him as he considered Sawyer’s problem.

  “We did not. Why do you ask?”

  “Horses are herd animals that often get lonely without other horses around. Did that appear true for your horse? Sawyer, you say.”

  “Yea, Sawyer.” I considered his question. “Lonely? In what way?”

  “Was he unsettled in the barn? Anxious when other horses passed by? Off his feed?”

  “I never thought him unsettled, although he did whinny at times, but don’t all horses?”

  “They do, but if you pay attention, you can sometimes tell what the horse is trying to tell you when it neighs.” The man’s brow wrinkled, as though working through a complicated puzzle. “So he never seemed unhappy in your corral?”

  I supposed horses could be a puzzle. Lately everything had been a puzzle to me. Everything except this baby I carried. He was pure love. My life after his birth—that was the puzzle.

  But I had no answer for the man’s horse puzzle. “Walter never mentioned any such problems.” I tried to think back. “He did sometimes laugh about how he would find our cat perched on the edge of the stall close to Sawyer’s head. Walter claimed they were telling each other secrets.”

  Another smile came to warm me. I should purposely bring up more sweet memories to get me through the dark days of missing Walter.

  “Where is the cat now?”

  “We took it back to the farm where we used to live. The Shakers did not want it here.”

  “It could be Sawyer wanted it.”

  Brother Hiram spoke up. “Surely you don’t think the absence of a mere cat would make a horse so despondent.”

  “Perhaps.” The man looked over at Brother Hiram. “Perhaps not. I said I’d take the horse to my barn to work with him, but I think now I should come and work with him here.”

  “Will you bring a cat with you?” Brother Hiram raised his eyebrows.

  “Just any cat wouldn’t do.” The man smiled and shook his head. “If the lack of his cat friend turns out to be his problem. It could be something else, since a horse can’t tell you where it is hurting.”

  “Yea.” Brother Hiram rubbed his chin. “Very well. Come at your convenience, but if after a few visits, no improvement is shown, we will, of necessity, get rid of the horse.”

  My heart san
k at his words, but I knew better than to speak. Sawyer was no longer mine. Since all was owned in common here, we had given him over to the Shakers when we came into the village. We did receive the promise he, or a horse of like value, would be returned to us should we leave. If only we had ridden Sawyer out of the village before that ill-fated trading trip.

  The man spoke up. “Don’t worry, ma’am. I feel confident I can help Sawyer.”

  “Thank you.” I dared a smile at the man, even though I sensed Brother Hiram’s disapproval.

  “You may wait in the hallway for the tray after Mr. Keller eats, Sister.” Brother Hiram waved me toward the door.

  I was glad to be away from Brother Hiram. To him, I surely represented all the Shakers intended to close away from their lives. The very evidence of marital union so forbidden here.

  I leaned against the stair railing. The double spiral staircases here in the hallway wound around and appeared to almost float up to the higher floors. I admired the curving banister and the steps somehow anchored to the wall, even though they appeared to be suspended in air.

  But in spite of my admiration, right then I was merely relieved I didn’t have to climb the stairs to deliver food to any other visitors. Were it not for Brother Hiram apt to come out of the room to see me, I would have sunk down on the bottom step. The day had been long, and then with the fresh sadness bearing down on my spirit from the talk of Walter’s horse, my knees wanted to give way with me.

  When the front door opened, the chatter of young girls’ voices distracted me from my weariness. A good sound, but not something I heard often, since the Shaker children were gathered in a separate house. Two girls came down the hallway toward me. One in Shaker dress I had seen at the Sunday meetings before I was banned from going. Sister Faye had sweet eyes that carried a smile. She, like Sister Helene, appeared to be happy among the Shakers.

  The child with her was much younger and not in Shaker dress. Her dark brown hair was in need of a comb. Her coat was well worn and knees peeked through holes in her stockings. She carried a new cape and some stockings the Shakers must have given her.

  The Shaker girl stopped in front of me. “We are looking for Sister Leatrice’s father. Mr. Keller. Have you seen him?”

  “He is here, having his meal and talking with Brother Hiram.” I pointed toward the room.

  “Then we should wait until he comes out.” Sister Faye frowned.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked.

  Sister Faye glanced back toward the front door. “I need to get back for worship practice.”

  “I will be here until Mr. Keller and Brother Hiram come out.” I peered down at the younger child. “I can keep Sister Leatrice company.”

  “Oh, that would work wonderfully well. Sister Corinne does not like us to be late.” Sister Faye hugged the young girl. “It was good to have you as a sister today. I hope you can come live with us someday.” Then without waiting for the child to reply, she hurried up the hall and out the door.

  The child watched her before she turned to me. “I’m not really her sister. But she says everybody here is a sister. So I guess you’re a sister too.”

  “I suppose I am. A Shaker sister. I once had a sister and two brothers before I came here, so I was a sister then too. Darcie is my name.” I don’t know why I told her that, but I liked separating myself from being only a Shaker sister. The neck kerchief felt heavy on my shoulders. A burden I wished to shed.

  “My name is Leatrice, but I don’t have any sisters or brothers. My mother died.”

  “I’m sorry.” And I was. I knew the sadness of losing a mother.

  “She fell off a horse and hit her head on a rock.” The little girl’s lips trembled. “Sometimes I can’t remember what she looked like.”

  I reached for her hand. “You must have been very young when she died.”

  “I was four. My mother loved me very much. Mamaw Bea said so.” More tears gathered in her eyes. “Then Mamaw died last year. Of the chol’ra.”

  Since I knew nothing to say in the face of such a load of sadness for one so young, I put my arms around her. Cholera always struck the countryside with sorrow. That was why Walter and I had been so determined to escape it, which this child’s grandmother had not. It could be I was wrong in thinking we might have avoided death if we hadn’t come here. Instead it might be both of us would be laid to rest by now instead of only Walter. As much as I missed Walter, I could only be glad that wasn’t so with the new life growing within me.

  A dear life, just as this young girl was a dear life.

  “Sometimes we must be strong,” I whispered into her hair as I held her close.

  “My papa is strong. He takes care of me.” The child pushed away from me. “He kept me from drowning.”

  “He did?”

  “I did something bad.” Leatrice hung her head. “I just wanted to skate on the pond, but the ice broke. It was really cold.”

  I put my fingers under her chin and lifted her face up. “But you’re all right now.”

  “My grandpa keeps coughing. He might die too. Because he got cold trying to help me.” Her wide eyes were the dark blue of a late evening sky.

  While I wanted to ease her worry, I had no idea whether the man would die or not. I thought to hug her again, but she seemed to need words more than hugs. “You can pray he will get better soon.”

  “Will you pray too?”

  “I will, young Leatrice. For your grandfather and for you. Will you pray for me too?”

  She nodded then. The next instant a door opened and her father and Brother Hiram came out into the hallway. I squeezed the little girl’s hand one last time, then slipped behind the men to fetch the tray to carry back to the kitchen.

  As I went out a side door, I looked toward the front of the Trustee House where the man and the child were leaving. They would be riding home in the dark, but the child looked safe and secure in the saddle in front of her father.

  My child would never rest in the arms of his father. Never be able to depend on his strength to get him through troubles. He would have no father, just as the child Leatrice had no mother. It was foolish to war against what could not be changed.

  As I walked through the gathering twilight, something inside me seemed to shift as my baby’s tiny feet beat against my belly. I would not forget Walter. I could never do that, but perhaps I needed to release him to heaven and dwell on the happy days we had shared, of which there were many. Those I would number and save to tell his child when the time was right.

  10

  Leatrice was full of talk about the Shakers as they rode home. “They spun wool into yarn on this big wheel with a pedal to turn it. The wool came from their sheep. Why don’t we have sheep?”

  “We have horses.”

  “The Shakers do too. Horses and sheep and chickens and cows. They even have cows that pull plows. Sister Faye said so and I don’t think she ever tells stories.” Leatrice twisted around to look up at Flynn. “Our cows can’t do that, can they?”

  “No, that takes special training.” Flynn had no desire to train cows. “I’ll stick to horses.”

  Leatrice settled back against Flynn. “Well, I wish we had sheep. They let me feel the wool. It was soft.”

  “My mother used to spin wool,” Flynn said.

  “Did your mother die like my mother?”

  “Not like your mother, but she died a few years ago.”

  “Were you very, very sad?”

  “I hadn’t seen her for a long time. Not since I was thirteen.” He tried to shift her thinking away from mothers. “They were nice to give you a cloak.”

  She had the dark blue Shaker cloak wrapped around her. The air had turned colder after the sun went down.

  “They gave me stockings too. Because my knees were peeping out of the ones I had.”

  “That was kind.” The child did need new clothes. So many things Lena’s mother took care of that failed to cross his mind. Maybe that was where Silas had gone.
To town to take care of some of those things.

  At least he did have supplies for their bare cupboard. One of the Shaker women had been waiting by his horse with cloth bags packed with jars cushioned with beans and dried apples. An excellent trade for his time today.

  “Did you like the Shaker girls?”

  Leatrice nodded her head against his chest. “They were nice. The next time I come they say I can sweep. They like to sweep. They showed me a dance where they pretend to sweep away bad things. Do you think they can really do that?”

  “Maybe not bad things that happen but bad things they are thinking.”

  “Am I bad, Papa?” Her voice sounded small.

  He tightened his arm around her. “No, Leatrice. Sometimes you do things you shouldn’t, but you aren’t bad. You’re one of the best things to ever happen to me.”

  With a sigh, Leatrice relaxed against him as they jogged toward home. “I like being a best thing. Was Mama a best thing too?”

  “She was.”

  For a moment, Leatrice was so quiet Flynn thought she’d fallen asleep. But then she said, “That woman in the hallway back there said she lost her mama to the chol’ra like we lost Mamaw Bea. Does everybody lose their best things?”

  “Not everybody and not all the best things. I still have you.”

  Leatrice kissed his hand on the reins. “I’m glad.”

  By the time they got to the house, she was so sound asleep she barely roused when Flynn carried her inside to her bed and pulled one of Ma Beatrice’s quilts over her. The house was cold since Silas was still gone. As Flynn fished coals out of the ashes to build up the fire, he thought about the warm Trustee House with that iron stove.

  The old cow was mooing, ready to be milked. The hens had gone to roost without any feed and the horses in the barn would have to wait for morning to get their stalls cleaned. It didn’t take long for a man to get behind on his chores, but the Shaker food made the afternoon away from the farm well worth it.

  With enough time he’d figure out something about the horse, but if the Shakers got impatient, he’d trade for the horse and bring it home. That way he wouldn’t have to think about that Shaker sister’s sad eyes when Brother Hiram talked about getting rid it.