The Innocent

by Ann H. Gabhart

  Sister Alice stepped up behind them in time to hear Carlyn. “Sister Edna may be wrong about many things.” The sister took a quick look around as though worried what ears might be listening. “But she is rarely wrong about troubles. She has her eye out for such. At one time, she was a watcher for the Ministry to catch those doing wrong. But now she merely watches to know.”

  “To know what?” Carlyn asked.

  “I’m not sure, but I would not want to be on the wrong side of Sister Edna,” Sister Alice said.

  “Is there a right side?” Sister Berdine asked.

  “It does not seem so for our Sister Carlyn.” Sister Alice smiled a little as she reached over to squeeze Carlyn’s hand. “But we do not all think like Sister Edna. I and the others in our sleeping room are glad you have come among us. We know you could have nothing to do with this. No matter the fate of poor Brother Henry.”

  Sister Alice’s and Sister Berdine’s eyes drifted back to the fire, but Carlyn looked through all the men standing around instead. Curt Whitlow was not there. At least not in the open where he could be seen, but then he hadn’t been in the open when she’d seen him with Brother Henry.

  Sister Edna appeared to be searching for someone too. Perhaps Brother Henry. She did stop to talk to one of the brothers, but it wasn’t Brother Henry. Instead it was Elder Derron, who had questioned Carlyn about the business of her house. Whatever Sister Edna said seemed to upset the elder since he stalked away from her. Sister Edna followed after him for a few steps before she stopped and put her hands on her hips. She did not look pleased.

  A rooster crowed and the hens began coming out of their roosting house. Carlyn watched them ruffling their feathers and flapping their wings as they left sleep behind. This was just another day for them, with bugs to eat and eggs to lay. The fire meant nothing to them. That’s the way she should be. Never mind Sister Edna’s frowns and suspicions. While the fire was a sorrowful loss, it had absolutely nothing to do with Carlyn being at the Shaker village. Absolutely nothing.

  Some of the Shakers began moving away from the fire. Breakfast had to be cooked. The animals fed. The beds made and the floors swept. There would be extra laundry with their soiled dresses and aprons too. It was going to be a long day for those working in the washhouse.

  “Maybe we should go back to our room to clean up for the morning chores,” Sister Berdine suggested. “Sister Edna appears to have forgotten us.”

  “But she told us to wait here.” Sister Marie’s voice trembled. Poor girl was frightened of everything.

  “And when she comes back, she may very well fuss because we did not go begin our duties for the day,” Carlyn said.

  “True enough, Sister.” Sister Alice smiled a little. “We can always say it was Sister Carlyn’s idea.”

  “You can. Then she will be upset that you followed the lead of one so recently of the world.”

  “True again.” Sister Alice sighed. “We will all need to consider our confessions for speaking about our sister while she was too far from us to hear. She will be distressed that we allowed our tongues to tempt us into trouble.”

  “Trouble,” Carlyn said. “I came here to get away from trouble.”

  “I suppose trouble is not so easy to escape.” Sister Berdine pointed toward the smoke rising from the remains of the barn.

  “Yea,” Sister Alice agreed. “But come. The brethren can handle whatever remains to be done about the barn. Sister Edna will understand our desire to be about our duties, with the sun coming up in the east.”

  They were almost to their house when a lone man came riding up the road. Carlyn knew him at once and her heart bounded up into her throat. Sheriff Brodie. He must have heard about the fire. She looked to see if Asher might be following him, but there was no dog.

  With a nod toward them, he dismounted and tied his horse to the fence. But then, as he started toward the barn, he looked back. “Carlyn?”

  Sister Berdine put her hand on Carlyn’s arm. “Is he the one you saw arguing with Brother Henry?”

  “Nay. He is a friend.” Carlyn’s feet moved toward him of their own accord, even as she wondered if he was just another kind of trouble following her. Trouble she should shy away from, but she kept walking. She kept smiling. She wanted to talk to him. She had to ask him about Asher.

  She would worry about Sister Edna and the rules later. She would worry about trouble when it came. But then her mother would say, what good did worry do. Prayer. That was always her mother’s answer. Perhaps it should be hers as well.

  17

  “Mrs. Kearney, it’s good to see you.” Mitchell had let her given name slip past his lips when he first saw her in the cluster of Shaker sisters, but he wouldn’t do so again. He had no right to speak so familiarly to her even if she was Carlyn in his thoughts. In too many of his thoughts.

  She smiled but with a touch of sadness. “No one calls me that now, Sheriff. I’m simply Sister Carlyn here. My marriage is part of the past.”

  He did not want to think of her as a sister. “So have you heard news about your husband?”

  “Nay.”

  The Shaker word surprised him. He hadn’t thought she would be absorbed so quickly into their Society. But words were easy to say. He had to bite his lip to keep back words that might reveal feelings he shouldn’t be having, but she was so lovely. Even with the smudge of soot on her cheek and strands of dark brown hair escaping her Shaker cap.

  She did not seem to notice his surprise as she went on. “I have accepted the truth so many have pushed at me these last months that my husband is not apt to return from the war now. Leaving my home and coming here forced me to face that truth.”

  “I’m sorry.” Mitchell was ashamed of how his heart lifted at her words.

  “Yea, so am I.” She lowered her head for a moment, then seemed to gather herself as she looked back at Mitchell. “But though I am still married since I do not know what happened to my Ambrose, the absence of a husband makes it easier to be a sister here. As odd as it seems, marriage is considered sinful in this place.”

  “Do you like it here?” He glanced over at the Shaker women behind her. One of them edged a bit closer as though wanting to hear, but then another of the women held her back. From his previous visits to the village, he knew the leaders wanted the sisters to have nothing to do with a man of the world. Or any man, as far as that went. He let his eyes come back to Carlyn. “Are you happy?”

  “Happy.” She echoed his word and blinked a few times. “Happiness is not a necessity for life. Food and shelter are what matter.” She sounded as though she were trying to convince herself the same as him. “Both are plentiful here. And many of the sisters claim happiness as well.”

  What was it about her deep blue eyes that made him want to take her hand and convince her that happiness might be possible with him? His army discipline saved him from making a fool of himself. “Then perhaps in time you will find happiness here too.”

  “In time perhaps. On days when barns are not burning and horses dying.” She turned her head to look back toward where smoke rose between the buildings.

  He looked that way too. “So the men couldn’t get the horses out?”

  “Not all of them.” She shuddered.

  “But no people were hurt?”

  “I cannot be sure of that. You will have to ask the elders.” A shadow crossed her face. She looked over her shoulder at the other women, then back toward the smoke. “I shouldn’t be talking to you.”

  “Why not?” He wanted her to keep talking to him. He wanted to know her better, to find out why he’d allowed her to move into his dreams. He’d been in love with the wrong woman once. Best not to let that happen again no matter how he was drawn to her.

  “I will be in trouble with the sister helping me learn their ways here.”

  “Where is she?” He looked back at the other women. “I can tell her I approached you.”

  “But that wouldn’t be true.”

  “I c
alled out to you.”

  “I didn’t have to listen.” A corner of her mouth turned up in a very small smile.

  His fingers itched to push the lock of hair straying out on her cheek back from her face. “Why did you then?”

  “I wanted to ask about Asher. Is he all right? Curt hasn’t—” She hesitated. “He hasn’t hurt him, has he?”

  So the dog had drawn her to him. Of course. If not for the seriousness of the fire that had pulled him to the Shaker village, Mitchell would have laughed out loud at himself. Here he had imagined her eyes glad to see him when she simply wanted to know about her dog. As Whitlow had told him on that first day at her house, he was letting a pretty face turn his head. The truth was he knew more about her dog than he knew about her, and that wasn’t likely to change now that she was a Shaker with her yeas and nays. He should put her out of his mind, but how could he with her standing right in front of him, making his heart thump as if he’d just charged up a hill into enemy fire? He forced himself to think about her dog instead of her beautiful eyes.

  “Asher’s fine. He’s back at the boardinghouse.” Mitchell managed a smile. “You were right about Mrs. Snowden. That dog. He’s a charmer. He went right to work on her the very first day I had him and found a place in her kitchen.”

  Carlyn finally smiled fully. “I’m glad.”

  “He still misses you though.”

  “You won’t let Curt do anything to him? About the bite?”

  “What bite?” Mitchell raised his eyebrows a little. “Whitlow claims a stray dog attacked him. And that he killed the dog.”

  She looked relieved even as she said, “Poor dog.”

  “You don’t have to worry about Asher. I’m keeping him close for the time being. If I let him run free, he’d run right back to your house.”

  “Not my house now. I signed it over to the Shakers. One of the elders here says they will sell it to buy more land. That’s their way.” Saying that seemed to make her remember other ways of the Shakers. With an uneasy glance around, she backed away from him. “Thank you, Sheriff. You can’t imagine how much I appreciate you taking Asher in. And thank Mrs. Snowden for me too.”

  When she started to turn away, he reached for her as though his hand had a mind of its own. He so wanted to keep her there. The fire could wait. The Shaker women behind her could wait. She looked down at his hand on her arm, then back at his face, a question in her eyes. A question he couldn’t answer. Not yet.

  Instead he stammered out some words. “If you ever need anything, Mrs. Kearney, you let me know.” When she didn’t say anything, he rushed on. “It’s my job, ma’am. To take care of the people in the county. That includes the people here in the Shaker village.” He knew he was sounding like a fool. He was a fool to let himself be carried away by a pretty widow. He dropped his hand away from her arm.

  “Yea, Sheriff, then you best be about your work. Sister Edna said fires like this are often the work of people intent on making trouble for the Shakers.” She whirled away from him to rejoin the women at the bottom of the steps going into the big brick house.

  One of the younger ones had her hand over her mouth with her eyes big circles in her face. Eyes that got even bigger when a strident voice called out Carlyn’s name.

  “Sister Carlyn.” An older sister strode toward them, anger in every step. “Whatever are you doing?”

  The other young women all scurried on into the house, but Carlyn stayed where she was on the walkway and seemed to brace herself for combat.

  The woman turned her frown on Mitchell even though she directed her words at Carlyn. “Is this the man from the world who was bothering poor Brother Henry yesterday? The one you fear?”

  “Nay, Sister Edna. Sheriff Brodie has come to investigate the fire.”

  “A man of the law.” The woman’s eyes narrowed on Mitchell. “Then I fear you are too late. The barn is burned. A team of horses lost. Brother Henry nowhere to be found.”

  “Do you suspect this brother of setting the fire and then running away?” Mitchell gave the woman his complete attention.

  “Nay. Brother Henry was a good and faithful Believer and would never injure an animal in his care.” The lines in the woman’s face deepened as her voice faltered. “I suspect something much worse. The work of the devil. Those of the world determined to rob us of our peace.”

  “If the fire was intentionally set, I’ll find who did it.”

  “Will you, Sheriff? How? By delaying one of our young sisters from her duties?” Her eyes narrowed until they were mere slits. “By forgetting your own duties at the sight of a pretty face? Such puts your feet on a slippery slope and our young sister’s as well.”

  “I meant no harm.” Mitchell looked past the old sister to where Carlyn stood, her head still bowed. Where was the woman who had met him at the door of her house, gun in hand?

  “Men of the world make that claim often, but look what is the result of those like you.” Sister Edna threw her hand out toward the fire, almost hitting Mitchell.

  “Nay, Sister Edna.” Carlyn looked up and stepped toward them. “Sheriff Brodie is here to help. Not harm.”

  The older woman’s face went rigid as she peered over her shoulder at Carlyn. “You speak out of turn, Sister. And with the taint of worldly sin clinging to you. You need to push the devil from your mind.”

  Carlyn stopped in her tracks, but dared more words. “He is not the devil.”

  “The devil shows up in many guises, Sister Carlyn.” She pointed toward the house. “Now be about your duties to keep yourself from further sin.”

  Carlyn’s face was devoid of expression as she met the older woman’s stare. After a long moment, she turned and went up the steps. She looked back at Mitchell before she went inside, but he still had no inkling of her thoughts.

  The face of the older Shaker sister wasn’t as hard to read. It had been awhile since anyone had looked at Mitchell with such distaste. She began stomping the ground and pushing her hands against the air in front of Mitchell. “Get thee from me, Satan.”

  Mitchell stared at her. “Calm yourself, Sister.”

  His words seemed to only upset her more, so he left her there to go search out one of the elders. Men he could talk to. Men he could understand. Even if they were Shakers with their odd beliefs. At least none of the Shaker brethren he’d dealt with had ever called him the devil.

  That the old sister did bothered him. He wanted to be the good guy, the one on the side of right. All he’d done was talk to Carlyn. He couldn’t understand how the Shaker woman could think that was so wrong. Mitchell sighed. Perhaps the old woman was right. Perhaps he was doing nothing but making trouble. For himself. For Carlyn too.

  He hoped Carlyn wouldn’t be chastised for her attempt to defend him to the older woman. Perhaps if he apologized to the leaders here and took the blame for the contact between them, then Carlyn would not suffer. But whatever happened, Mitchell knew Carlyn would have dared speaking with him anyway. Not because she wanted to talk to him, but because of Asher. He wondered what the old Shaker woman would think about Carlyn breaking the rules to learn about a dog.

  Mitchell smiled a little at the thought of playing second fiddle to a dog. And a missing husband. Foolish to even imagine himself in Carlyn’s thoughts at all. His smile faded as he rounded one of the Shaker buildings and saw the smoldering fire. It was time to think business instead of hopeless romance. Time to find out if this was a tragic accident or something worse. He was hoping it was nothing more than a lightning strike from the storm that had gone through in the night, but something about the posture of the men standing around seemed to indicate nothing simple about it.

  Elder Derron broke away from one of the groups when he saw Mitchell. “Sheriff, we were about to send for you.”

  The man’s face was not marked with soot as Carlyn’s had been but weariness cast a gray shadow over his features. “One of your neighbors sent his boy into town to let me know about your trouble here,” Mitc
hell said.

  “Yea, trouble.” The elder sighed.

  “I’m sorry about your barn. I hear you lost horses too.”

  “Yea. And we fear more.”

  “More?” Mitchell looked at the barn. The hay inside it could smolder for days. “What was inside the barn?”

  “Not what. Who.”

  Mitchell sharpened his look on the elder and remembered the old sister’s worry about one of her brethren. “What do you mean, who?”

  “We are unable to account for Brother Henry Stratton. We fear he may have perished while trying to save his horses.”

  “Did someone see him go into the barn?”

  “Nay. No one has seen him at all.” Elder Derron coughed into a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket. “The smoke,” he explained.

  “Perhaps your Brother Henry is just in another building or barn.” Mitchell looked around.

  “That is unlikely. Some of our brothers did manage to get a few of the horses out, but no one saw Brother Henry. No one. That is not like him. Brother Henry treated his animals with the greatest of care. Often if one was ailing in some way, he would sleep in the barn with them.”

  “Was he doing that this night?” Mitchell stared at what was left of the barn. If Brother Henry was there, his spirit had long since fled his body.

  “I would not be surprised if it was so. Brother Henry could have been in the barn to calm his charges during the storm.”

  “Then it seems he would have been able to escape the fire with his horses,” Mitchell said. “If lightning struck the barn, he would have known it.”

  “Yea, so it would seem. But the fire was not the result of lightning, Sheriff.” Elder Derron looked directly at Mitchell, his face taut.

  “Is there proof of that?”

  “Yea.” He drew in a ragged breath that set off his coughing again. When he was able to stop the coughs, he wiped his mouth with trembling fingers. “I do apologize, Sheriff, but this is a tragic morning. Anyway, to answer your question, the brethren found an empty can with the strong odor of kerosene just inside the doors when they went in to rescue the horses.”