Abiding Peace (12 page)

“Your faith is stronger than mine at this moment, though I know you speak truth.” He turned and took the road to the village.

Christine watched him go, her heart aching.

The Dudley men stopped by the farmhouse in the morning just after sunup on their way to the village. Christine and Goody Baldwin went with them, leaving Alice Stevens and Goody Dudley with Roger Ackley and the corpse.

As Christine had feared, the constable raised a posse to beat the forest all about. Christine watched them come and go on the common. The Jewett children fretted to go outside and play, but she would not let them.

Goody Deane was nearly as bad. She sat in the chair, darning stockings and muttering all morning. At last she called to Christine, “Do something, lass! Weave or bake or scrub, but don’t stand there in the light of the doorway.”

Christine turned and saw all four children—Ben had gone with the men—staring at her. Tempting as the loom was, she knew she hadn’t the right to please herself that day. If she retreated in solitary brooding and weaved the hours away, the children would suffer.

She forced a smile. “Come, children. Alice Stevens bade me bring a cheese and some dried apples back with me. Let us see what we can make special for dinner. Won’t your father and Ben be surprised if we have dried apple tart waiting for them?”

Too late she remembered they had no wheat flour, so they crumbled maple sugar and oats over the apples instead of a crust. “A sprinkle of cinnamon and bit of lard.” She let Constance cover the Dutch oven. “There now. Stand back, and I shall cover it in coals.” Once it was baking, she was hard pressed to come up with another project.

Goody Deane finished her darning and coaxed Abby and Constance to sit with her and try to knit. “You shall make your dollies a fine new coverlet,” she promised them.

John got down his wooden soldiers and animals. He even let Ruth play with a few, and so the hours passed.

All the while, Christine’s thoughts roiled round and round. Was the outlaw guilty of murder? How would they ever know for certain, unless he confessed? Had her hesitation to expose him brought about Mahalia Ackley’s death? She sent many prayers heavenward, until they all seemed to run together.

Father, keep Samuel and Ben safe. Let justice be done. Forgive me if I did wrong
.

But she knew not whether to pray they found the outlaw or not.

Samuel and Ben tramped through the woods between the gristmill and the brickworks. They penetrated every thicket and peered up into every tree. They could hear other men not far away doing the same.

Paine and Baldwin had done a good job of organizing the search, Samuel thought. As well as any man could do. Every structure in the village had been searched, from the meetinghouse on down to the lowest root cellar. No trace of the man had been found. One man had gone so far as to suggest Miss Hardin’s outlaw was a phantom, made up to let them give up looking for the murderer among themselves.

Samuel had silenced that talk quickly, saying Miss Hardin was as honest and as staunch as they come. Baldwin, Paine, and the Dudley men backed him up, and the search resumed.

As he hunted the elusive man, Samuel wondered if Christine had told him all. She had met the outlaw at least half a dozen times, he judged. Did she sympathize with him? Had she gone so far as to set her affections on him? It was unthinkable, and yet the inkling was there. Samuel raised his corn knife and slashed viciously at a thicket of brambles.

Lord, calm my spirit
.

With a sudden start, he realized that a man crouched in the bushes, his hands raised before his face.

Samuel froze with his arm over his head, ready to strike the brambles again.

The man roared and leaped at him.

“Wait!” Samuel cried.

His adversary plunged forward.

Samuel swung the corn knife downward at the man’s arm. His breath whooshed out of him as his adversary’s body hit him, knocking him to the ground. Samuel lost his grip on the corn knife and grappled with the man, rolling over in the thicket.

He heard yelling, but he didn’t dare pause to make sense of it. As he continued to struggle, the man’s grip seemed to weaken. After a moment, Samuel felt strong hands tugging at his arms, lifting him off his opponent.

Stephen Dudley and Charles Gardner jumped on the stranger, hauling him to his feet.

Samuel realized that Richard Dudley had pulled him away from the man and was supporting him as they watched. “Are you well, Parson?”

“Aye, Richard. Thank you. He had a knife in his hand.”

“Looks like you got the better of him.” Richard stooped and picked up Samuel’s long corn knife.

“I regret that,” Samuel said. “I had only a moment to act, and I struck hard, I fear.”

The captured man bled profusely from a deep gash on his forearm, where Samuel had slashed through his sleeve.

He fumbled with the knot that tied his handkerchief about his neck. “Here, Charles. Hold him steady, and I’ll wrap his wound.”

The man snarled as he approached.

“Easy, now,” Charles said, yanking him up straighter. “The parson is a healer. Let him see to your arm.”

“He like to ha’ cut my arm off!”

Stephen picked up a bone-handled knife. “And you never planned to hurt him with this, I suppose.”

Richard put his own kerchief in Samuel’s hand, and the pastor moved in warily and pulled the man’s sleeve up. The cut went clear to the bone.

“You’d best let him sit,” he told Charles. “I’ll wrap it tight and try to stop the bleeding, but he needs to be sewn up.”

“Should we fetch that doctor back from the Point?” Stephen asked.

Samuel swallowed hard. He was a little light-headed. “Perhaps so. I could do it, but I fear my hands are not steady now, and I wouldn’t do so neat a job, I’m sure.”

“Reverend?” Captain Baldwin shouted from fifty yards away through the trees. “You faring well over there?”

“Come on over here, Captain,” Richard bellowed. “We’ve got a prisoner for you.”

Samuel felt a timid touch at his elbow. He turned and found Ben staring at him with glassy eyes. “Father! Are you hurt?”

“Nay, son.” Samuel realized he was shaking all over. He pulled Ben toward him and gave him a swift hug. “I’m fine.”

“I didn’t see him,” Ben choked.

“Neither did I until it was too late.”

The captain arrived with half a dozen other men from the search. “Well, now, what have we here?” Baldwin asked with a pleased air. “Caught a skulker, have you, Preacher?”

“He was hiding in the thicket,” Samuel said.

“Aye, he went at the pastor with this.” Stephen held up the stranger’s knife.

“Hey!” Daniel Otis stepped forward. “That’s my knife that I lost a couple of weeks ago … or rather my knife that someone stole.”

Richard clapped Samuel on the shoulder. “You’d best get home and rest, Pastor. We’ll lock up this worthless excuse for a man.”

“Aye,” said Baldwin. “Let’s march him over to Heard’s garrison. We can lock him in the smokehouse there until a magistrate tells us what to do with him.”

“I didn’t do anything,” the man cried. “This barbarous preacher tried to cut my head off, and I didn’t do anything!”

“Nothing?” Baldwin grasped the front of the man’s shirt and pulled him up close, nose to nose with him. “What about the goodwife who was throttled yesterday, hey?”

The man’s lips trembled. “I know nothing of that. I swear.”

“Be careful what you swear to,” said Charles. “Now, come along.”

The door latch rattled. Christine jumped up from the bench by the loom, her heart racing. She had laid the bar in place before sitting down with Abby to give her a lesson at weaving. It seemed odd to bar the door in the daytime, but with the men out looking for the killer, she would not have been surprised if the outlaw tried to take shelter there.

Tabitha and the children all stared toward the door. A loud knocking resounded through the house.

“Who is it?” she cried.

“It’s I, Christine. Let me in.”

She sprang forward at Samuel’s voice and grabbed the bar. The door flew open. She felt tears spring to her eyes as Samuel and Ben entered.

“We found your thief.” Samuel headed for the water bucket and helped himself to a dipperful.

Christine put one hand to her lips. “Is he …”

“He’s alive.”

“Father sliced him with his corn knife,” Ben blurted.

The girls gasped.

John jumped up and ran to his brother. “Really? Did you see it? Tell us what happened.”

“There, now. Hush, John.” Samuel sank down on the bench at the table.

Christine noticed blood on his hands and sleeve. “Sir, are you wounded?”

“Nay. The blood is not mine.” He ran his hand over his eyes. “If I weren’t so tired, I would get up and wash.”

She stepped toward him and stopped, wanting to ask all sorts of questions. She crumpled her apron between her hands. “May I bring you something, sir?”

“Aye. There’s no chocolate, I suppose.”

“Nay, sir, but I can fix you some strong mint tea.”

“I suppose that will do.”

While the tea steeped, she brought a basin of warm water and a facecloth. Samuel looked up at her and murmured his thanks then began to rinse the blood from his hands. She set a plate of samp with a slice of cheese and a portion of boiled cabbage before him and fixed one for Ben as well. The boy sat down and began to eat ravenously.

Samuel looked up at her, his eyelids drooping. “Thank you. I’m about played out, I fear, with all that’s happened these last two days. And tomorrow we shall bury Goody Ackley.” He sighed and reached for his spoon.

She bit her lip and forced herself to keep silence.

“Did Father really catch the murderer?” John sidled onto the bench next to Ben.

“Keep your peace, John,” Samuel said. “We caught a man lurking in the woods, but we know not whether he killed Goody Ackley. That shall be determined when the magistrate comes.”

Christine cleared her throat. “When will that be?”

“I don’t know. Captain Baldwin took charge of the prisoner. They’re taking him to the Heards’ to lock him up. I expect to hear more tomorrow.”

Goody Deane pushed her knitting into her workbag and rose. “And tonight you should rest, sir. Now that the blackguard is in custody, I shall go home.”

“Nay, you and Christine must have your supper first. You’ve stayed here all day, and I doubt you had much rest with these four children cooped up here with you.”

Christine could see that Tabitha moved slowly, as though her stiff joints ached. “Sit down now with the men, dear lady. Have some food, and as soon as I’ve fed the children I shall take you home. Abby and John can do the washing up tonight, if I pour the hot water for them. Can you not, children?”

John nodded somberly, and Abby hurried to her side. “We can do it, Miss Christine. Will you let me weave some more tomorrow?”

Christine smoothed Abby’s hair and smiled. She was glad the girl was more excited about weaving than about the man whom Samuel had apparently injured. “Of course I will. If you like it, you’ll soon be making material for your own petticoats and skirts.”