Simply Dead

by Eleanor Kuhns

  ‘Simon will be here at Christmas,’ Lydia said, as though she could read his mind. ‘Simon and David.’

  Rees nodded but was not comforted. ‘I’m just a sentimental old fool,’ he said.

  ‘We all miss them,’ Lydia said with a smile.

  ‘I’m coming too,’ Joseph said, running to Rees and throwing his arms around his father’s legs.

  ‘You can’t,’ he said, ruffling the boy’s dark hair. ‘Not today.’ Jerusha came forward and pulled Joseph back. His face crumpled and he burst into loud wails. Rees looked at the boy and almost changed his mind. But what would they do with him while they spoke to the Sisters?

  ‘We’ll be home soon,’ Lydia said, hugging Joseph.

  ‘Stay here with your sisters,’ Rees said. Joseph’s sobbing followed him through the door. Rees felt guilt settle over his shoulders, heavy as a shroud.

  ‘He’ll be fine as soon as we leave,’ Lydia said, correctly interpreting her husband’s expression.

  ‘Sometimes I feel as though I’m always leaving the children,’ Rees said.

  ‘The move here was hard on them,’ Lydia said. ‘They miss David too. I confess I don’t feel the same connection to David you do. He came late to my life and I think of him as an adult.’

  ‘He is an adult,’ Rees said. At eighteen and married, David was old enough to serve in the militia. Rees had failed to care for David when he was a small boy and now regretted the years he’d lost. They were something he could never recapture and although he and David had navigated the anger and resentment caused by what the boy saw as abandonment and neglect, Rees knew he would never cease wishing he had lived his life differently. Unfortunately, he frequently felt he was doing no better this time.

  FIFTEEN

  When they drove into the village of Zion, Jonathan appeared so quickly from the stable that Rees knew the Shaker had been waiting for their arrival. Sister Esther, throwing a shawl about her shoulders, appeared only a few seconds later at the door of the Dwelling House. She ran down the steps, already speaking. ‘Where is Sharon? You didn’t bring the baby?’

  Rees and his family had been living here in Zion when Lydia had delivered Sharon. As Rees climbed down from the wagon he realized he should have guessed that Esther, and some of the other Sisters, would want to see the children. When the family had fled to Zion for refuge, Lydia and the children had become part of this community for several months. Rees did not feel the same connection; Zion had never been home for him. But he had a long history with this Shaker community and Lydia, who had once been a Sister here, had an even longer one.

  ‘Jerusha is watching the two youngest,’ she said with a smile. ‘And of course the two older ones are in school.’

  ‘Please,’ Jonathan said with a gesture.

  Lydia nodded and allowed Rees to take her arm and draw her after Brother Jonathan.

  They went into the Dwelling House, Rees and Lydia separating to enter through the appropriate doors. They went up the stairs and met at the top, in front of the door to the Elders’ office. Jonathan had already entered the chamber and was taking chairs down from the pegs. Rees stepped inside, remembering his last visit to this room. He had identified the murderer of several members in the Zion community. It had been an emotional session and ended in fisticuffs, despite the Shaker’s pacifist beliefs.

  ‘How is Brother Aaron?’ Rees asked, recalling the gangly Brother who had launched himself at the murderer.

  ‘Sit,’ Jonathan said with a gesture. ‘We have a more important issue to discuss.’ He shot a glance at Rees who saw that Jonathan did not want to speak of Aaron. Rees guessed that the Brother was continuing to go his own way, behaving in a manner that was just short of outright disobedience.

  As Lydia and Rees chose seats across from one another, far enough apart so their knees were in no danger of touching, Jonathan left the room. Rees heard the Brother’s footsteps descending the steps. The Sisters must have been just downstairs and waiting to be called; within a few minutes the footsteps of several people began to ascend the staircase.

  Rees rose to his feet as the three Sisters entered the room.

  They were all young and dressed identically in dark-colored dresses with berthas over their shoulders and square linen caps covering their hair. One of the girls was taller than the others, broad-shouldered and with large hands but it was the elfin fair-haired girl who stepped forward to speak. She looked up, directly at Rees. This is the leader of the group, he thought.

  ‘Please, Sister Pearl, tell us what happened yesterday,’ Jonathan said.

  ‘We were going to the kitchen,’ said the Sister. She spoke with unexpected self-possession and Rees wondered about her age. She could have been anywhere from twelve to twenty; her small frame was deceptive. ‘We saw the body lying in the road.’

  ‘Did you know what it was?’ Rees asked.

  Pearl shook her head, sudden tears filling her eyes. ‘Not then.’ She rubbed the back of her hand over her face. ‘We saw the white cloak in the snow. I – we – thought someone had fallen or fainted.’ The other two girls nodded in unison.

  ‘What happened then?’

  ‘Excuse me.’ Esther appeared at the office door. ‘I need one of the Sisters in the kitchen. Do you require all three?’

  ‘I’ll go,’ said the third of the trio. She was a nondescript girl with sharp features and Rees thought she looked relieved as she followed Esther from the room.

  ‘And then?’ Rees prompted the two remaining Sisters.

  ‘We ran over, didn’t we, Glory?’ Pearl looked at the tall, heavyset girl. She nodded her dark head. Glory’s size and brunette coloring made Pearl seem even fairer and more diminutive.

  ‘Glory,’ Pearl said as she gestured at her companion, ‘thought the woman was ill.’ As Pearl spoke her acolyte kept nodding, her head bobbing up and down as though hinged.

  ‘Did you look at the woman lying on the ground, Glory?’ Lydia asked, startling Rees with her sudden question. The tall, heavyset girl jumped in surprise at being directly addressed. The quick glance she directed at the two adults revealed a broad face flushed with tears and puffy swollen eyes.

  ‘Yes,’ she said softly.

  ‘We all did, didn’t we, Glory?’ Pearl asked. Throwing a quick glance at Pearl, Glory nodded.

  ‘She was the first one there,’ Pearl said. ‘We all ran …’

  ‘Were you walking with these Sisters, Glory?’ Lydia asked, ignoring the fair-haired girl who so obviously wanted to be the center of attention. ‘Or did you come upon the victim first?’

  ‘We were together,’ Pearl began.

  ‘Please let Sister Glory speak for herself,’ Lydia said, never removing her eyes from the taller, heavier girl.

  ‘Yes, we were together,’ Glory said. She did not raise her eyes to Lydia but kept them trained upon her clasped hands. Pearl smiled, a slight triumphant smile.

  ‘We ran to help,’ Pearl said. ‘Didn’t we, Glory?’

  ‘You looked at her face?’ Rees asked. Glory nodded.

  ‘I saw … I saw …’ She broke down into sobs. Lydia took a few steps forward and put a hand on the girl’s arm. Glory stiffened and then half-turned, leaning toward Lydia for comfort. Lydia moved her hand to the girl’s shoulder and patted her. Rees shifted from foot to foot with impatience until Lydia narrowed her eyes warningly at him.

  ‘We saw a man running away,’ Pearl announced. Glory and Lydia both turned to look at the girl.

  ‘You saw the murderer?’ Lydia asked in surprise.

  ‘We did, didn’t we?’ Pearl applied to Glory for corroboration.

  Glory nodded. ‘We did.’

  ‘A young man?’ Rees asked, stepping forward in his eagerness. ‘Dark haired? In buckskin?’

  Glory lifted her face. ‘No. No,’ she said. Wiping her wet face with her sleeve, she repeated, ‘No. It was an old man. He carried a gun.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Pearl said in agreement, her voice rising with excitement. ‘An old
man carrying a gun.’

  Rees and Lydia exchanged a glance of mingled astonishment and mystification. Who could that old man be?

  ‘What I don’t understand,’ said Rees for perhaps the third time, ‘is why, if he had a rifle, he did not shoot her. He could have done so from a distance with no one seeing him.’

  Lydia nodded. ‘I know. He must have known he hadn’t killed Hortense as soon as he saw her face.’

  ‘Why strangle her? It doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘Maybe his powder was wet,’ Lydia suggested.

  ‘And who is this old man Glory saw?’ Rees flicked the ribbons over Hannibal’s withers. They were on their way to Gray Hill hoping to speak with Granny Rose. Both Sharon and Joseph had been napping when Lydia and Rees had returned home. Seizing this opportunity, he proposed a journey to Gray Hill. Lydia agreed with such eagerness that he realized with a twinge of shame that his wife also found a life lived at the farm and bounded by relentless chores tedious.

  He turned to smile at her. The cold had whipped color into her cheeks and teased a tendril of hair from her cap. She was frowning with thought but, despite the line between her brows, a smile curved her lips.

  ‘What I want to know,’ she said now, ‘is how anyone knew Hortense was staying in Zion. You had just moved her there.’

  ‘Unless the murderer’s intended target was the victim,’ Rees said. ‘That would explain that unknown old man. He may have no connection to Hortense or her abduction whatsoever.’

  ‘But there was Hortense’s cloak,’ Lydia argued. Rees nodded. For a moment they drove in silence and then she added, ‘I did not like Sister Pearl. One would have expected her to feel more shocked by their experience. Instead she seemed excited, rather than horrified, by the violent murder of her fellow Sister.’

  Rees nodded without comment. After spending significant time with the Shaker community he thought that life in Zion must be boring – especially after a few months. It would be for him. And he suspected that young Shaker Sister was trying to enjoy this bit of excitement while she could and hadn’t stopped to consider the death in all its horror.

  SIXTEEN

  Rees paused in the small clearing with the general store to rest Hannibal. Both he and Lydia climbed down and walked around for a few minutes before returning to the wagon. The sun was high in the sky, almost directly overhead, and shining brightly. The air was cold; otherwise today would feel almost like spring.

  The shopkeeper stepped outside. Smoke from a pipe wreathed Mr Morton’s head and a brown tobacco stain in the snow betrayed his regular position there. He eyed both people walking around his yard and, recognizing Rees, nodded. It was an acknowledgement, no more, and barely polite.

  After the short rest, Rees and Lydia resumed their journey. The track was snow-covered but grooved by wheels and pocked by both hooves and footprints. Rees peered at the white surface wondering if he could spot tracks left by moccasins, but far too much traffic had been this way. And, most people would choose to use the road, no matter how mean, Rees thought as he glanced from side to side at the thick snowy woods hugging the path. The trees grew closely together and snow filled the spaces. Breaking through would be a battle. The terrain itself with its sudden ravines and steep hills would be difficult to traverse even in the best of weathers.

  Rees handed the reins to Lydia and climbed down to walk alongside Hannibal’s head. The footing was difficult on the scarred snow – treacherous and slippery. The gelding struggled to pull the wagon.

  Rees soon began panting as his leather-soled boots slipped in the icy slope. Almost at the crest of this hill, he spotted the left-hand turn that the shopkeeper had mentioned to him and the constable previously. Taking Hannibal’s bridle, Rees guided the horse into the lane.

  The snow cover was even deeper here and the trees lining the road grew so thickly he began to wonder if they had taken the wrong turn. The woods looked like virgin forest, untouched by any human hand.

  But a curve revealed a sun-filled opening ahead and the grade began to flatten out. As they rounded the final bend a small cabin with a ramshackle barn behind it came into view. A large fire blazed in the yard and, as Rees pulled the wagon up to the split-rail fence, the old woman stopped tossing branches into the flames and turned to stare. She wore a heavy cloak and a pair of men’s boots on her feet.

  ‘Granny Rose?’ Rees asked as he pulled Hannibal to a stop. The woman nodded, her gaze going to Lydia.

  ‘You don’t look like you’re increasing,’ the midwife said.

  ‘No,’ Lydia said.

  ‘How old is your baby?’

  ‘About fifteen months.’ Lydia sounded astonished. Granny Rose nodded as though satisfied.

  ‘We wanted to ask you a few questions,’ Rees said. Granny Rose looked up at him. Her skin was grooved into deep wrinkles from spending a lifetime outside in all weathers. Although a skinny woman she looked strong with ropy muscles revealed by her turned up sleeves. Sinews corded her hands.

  ‘’Bout what?’

  ‘The midwife’s daughter was abducted,’ Rees said.

  ‘Ah. The young woman that birthed Mr Bennett’s latest,’ said Granny Rose.

  Rees nodded. ‘Hortense.’

  ‘Why do you care? You’re not the constable,’ the midwife said.

  ‘Rouge has some family problems,’ Rees said.

  ‘That’s partly why we’re here,’ Lydia said, climbing carefully down from the wagon seat.

  Granny Rose looked from one to the other. ‘Very well. Bring your nag and wagon inside the fence. The fire keeps the wolves away.’

  Lydia unhooked the leather strap holding the gate close and swung it back. Rees drove into the yard. The mule contained in a small paddock to the right turned to look at them. He rolled his eyes at the wagon and continued nibbling on the withered leaves springing from one of the deadfalls that formed the posts.

  Granny Rose opened the door to her cabin and stood back to allow them entry.

  Although primitive, just logs chinked with mud, the one-room cabin boasted a wooden floor and a stone fireplace. ‘Coffee?’ she asked, moving to the coffee pot sitting on the hearth. Both Lydia and Rees accepted and Granny Rose busied herself fetching cups, pouring the inky brew and putting out sugar. Rees guessed the pottery cups were probably her best; no doubt she ate and drank from woodenware.

  He almost spit out his first sip; the liquid could barely be called coffee. Although some coffee beans had been ground for this drink, the dominant flavor was of chicory.

  ‘It’s a long trip for a few questions,’ said Granny Rose. ‘What happened?’

  Rees looked into the old woman’s wrinkled countenance. The hair pulled back into a bun was an unusual bright white, so white even her cap looked dingy. Rees wondered how old this woman was. She might be in her fifties, or even older, a great age especially in the mountains, but her blue eyes were sharp and piercing. She was no fool and Rees opted to tell the bare truth. After explaining what had happened to Hortense, he said, ‘The constable has decided to remove the girl to Canada. And now, with a murder, we are trying to find these boys.’

  Granny Rose nodded, but not as though she was prepared to tell him anything quite yet. ‘Lot of boys named Jacob and Jeremiah here in the hills,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to direct you to some family with innocent young men.’

  ‘We don’t believe they murdered the Shaker Sister,’ Rees said quickly.

  ‘Women living celibate, without home and family,’ the midwife said. ‘Ain’t natural.’

  Rees recalled the worn face of the dead woman. He thought she, whatever her past, had found a refuge among the Shakers but elected, for once, not to argue.

  ‘Are there any women here on Gray Hill who have had babies recently?’ Lydia asked suddenly. Granny Rose smiled. Although an old woman, she still had most of her teeth.

  ‘Many women,’ she said.

  ‘I think this would have been someone you didn’t assist,’ Lydia said. When Rees turne
d to look at his wife in surprise, she said, ‘Hortense went to help Mr Bennett’s wife. Maybe she was called to another lying in, not necessarily this time but before.’ Throwing a quick look at her husband, she added, ‘Her kidnapper had to have seen her, wouldn’t you agree?’

  Granny Rose eyed Lydia and then, chewing her lip, stared at the floor in thought. ‘I don’t know the Bennetts. Well, they live so far down I’d guess not many of us Hill people would know them.’

  Rees shrugged. ‘Perhaps my wife is correct,’ he said. ‘Someone might still have seen Hortense.’

  Granny Rose glanced at him and then down at the floor once again. ‘So the girl, Hortense, could have been called to a birth any time within the last four to five months?’ she said.

  ‘Possibly,’ Lydia said cautiously.

  ‘Up to the last few weeks,’ Rees said. He wasn’t sure where his wife’s thoughts were leading. But then, he knew little about midwives and birthing babies so Lydia most likely recognized some detail he did not.

  ‘There was a birth I didn’t get called to. A couple of months ago. Not recently.’

  Rees and Lydia exchanged a glance. ‘Perhaps these young men saw Hortense when she attended that birth,’ Lydia suggested.

  The midwife inclined her head, reluctance in every line of her body.

  ‘Perhaps. Probably.’ She chewed her lower lip as she ruminated and Rees knew there was more. Leaning forward, he opened his mouth. Lydia put her hand on his wrist and shook her head at him.

  So they sat in silence, waiting for Granny Rose to come to her own decision. The quiet went on and on until it achieved a weight of its own. The midwife shifted uncomfortably and said at last, ‘The Woottens are a large family. The two youngest boys are called Jake and Jem.’