Sins of a Shaker Summer (30 page)

Before leaving the protection of her tree, Rose looked around and found a hefty stick. She had faced the possibility of violence before, and she had agonized, but now she felt resolute. She would do what was necessary to bring Janey and Marjorie back to the safety of the Society. She would atone for the rest of her life, if need be, but she would save those children.

Clutching her only weapon, Rose crept from tree to tree in a circle around the area where the children waited. The wind had abated somewhat, and she listened carefully to the sounds of the woods. Perhaps the animals had taken
shelter from the storm, because she heard no chirping or rustling. Or perhaps they had been frightened off.

It was possible that the men were watching her, waiting for the right moment. To create confusion, she backtracked a ways into the woods and widened her circle. She had gone about two thirds of the way around and had come across no one. She decided to take a risk and move in again, closer to the girls. She moved slowly, watching her feet to make sure she did not crack a fallen branch, alert to any sound of movement around her. She was almost in sight of Janey and Marjorie again. Just a few more trees to go. She sidled around one tree and moved toward the next. As she glanced at the area just ahead of her, she froze in place. The dark sole of a man's shoe was visible just beyond the perimeter of a tree ahead of her. As she watched, the foot began to move. But something wasn't right. The foot was moving forward, but the sole still faced upward.

Rose steadied herself against a tree. She felt her aloneness as she never had before. Her Shaker family was very close, yet she could scream and no one would hear her over this storm. Whatever had to be done, she must do alone.

Staying close to the tree trunk, she crept forward, toward the place where the foot had been. At least the wind howling overhead and the rain splattering on the leaves would mute the snap of a branch if she stepped on one.

Rain had penetrated even this deep in the woods, and the dusty ground was turning molten. She came to the spot where she'd seen the foot and noticed streaks in the mud. Crushed undergrowth and broken brambles told her that a body had probably been dragged away. She followed the path, careful to keep her stick ready for a quick defense.

The blurred tracks led away from the girls and toward the creek. Before they reached the clearing near the creek, however, they swerved north into a densely wooded area that Rose had never been in. A crash of thunder jolted Rose, and she almost dropped her stick. No lightning pierced the thick canopy overhead, and the thin slivers of visible sky
were still black as midnight. For a confused moment, Rose wondered if she'd been out there long enough for it to have actually become midnight. But nay, the others would have reached her by now if it were that late.

She moved deeper into the woods. She came to an area blanketed by leaves and fallen branches, and the tracks stopped. She had a vision of someone hefting a body onto his shoulders and carting it off, to be tossed into a ravine. She'd have to continue the search with just her instincts to guide her. With her stick pointed forward, she inched along through the leaves. She stepped over a rotting branch, and her foot came down on another branch, hidden by the leaves.

Losing her balance, she fell face-first into the leaves. The smell of decay assaulted her nostrils. She rolled over and sat up quickly, pinching her nose to avoid sneezing. As the danger passed, she opened her eyes and realized she'd tossed her stick aside as she'd fallen. On her knees, she reached over for the stick, and her fingers halted inches from it. A human hand protruded slightly from under the leaves, as if it, too, were reaching for the stick.

Rose could not stop the squeal that escaped from her throat. She sat back abruptly and waited for the worst of her panic to subside. Then she crawled toward the hand, reached out, and touched a finger. It was cool, but not ice-cold.

With a burst of hope, she frantically brushed aside the blanket of leaves and uncovered a long arm, wearing the sleeve of a brother's shirt. The hand was tied at the wrist to the other hand. Within moments, she had revealed a shoulder, and then the head. It was Andrew. He was bound and gagged and unconscious, but breathing.

With a fervent but silent prayer of thanks, Rose reached for his bindings, then stopped her hands. What if her speculations about Andrew had been correct? What if his condition was the result of a falling-out among thieves? If she released him, she might be even less safe than she was right
now. But if she left him, he might die. Furthermore, if she was wrong, and if Andrew had truly tried to rescue the children, she would be cutting off her only support.

She could not afford to spend more moments arguing with herself. In the end, Rose decided to follow the teachings of her faith—and to be truthful, she wanted to trust Andrew. She could not doom him to death, even if by releasing him she risked endangering herself. She quickly undid his bindings, grabbed her stick, and disappeared into the woods before he might regain consciousness. Once she had rescued the children and returned them to the sisters, she would send the brethren to deal with Andrew—to care for him and, if necessary, to subdue him and hand him over to the deputy.

Staying as quiet and hidden as possible, Rose hurried back past the creek and toward the tree where she had last seen Janey and Marjorie. She still hoped to steal them away and avoid violent confrontation. When she arrived, her hopes were dashed. The girls were loosed and sitting on the ground with their father, who had his back to Rose. He seemed to be speaking to them earnestly, and their pinched, dirty faces gazed up at him.

Rose looked at her stick and knew it would not be enough to subdue him, even if he had no weapon but his own strength. The girls would be too terrorized and too bewildered to help. She scanned the area around her for an idea. She saw Virginia creeper twining around many of the trees around her. The vines probably had been growing for decades without disturbance. Thomas must have used some of them to secure his children while he—did what? Explored the woods? Met with Andrew? Never mind, Virginia creeper might be the answer for Rose, too.

She ripped off six lengths of vines and divided them into two groups of three. She worked quickly, blessing the heavens for the roar of the winds. Pulling out Marjorie's corncob doll and placing it under a tree, Rose removed her triangular kerchief and shredded it into long, narrow rags.
Finding saplings that were well enough established and in the right locations took precious minutes, but finally she had tied the lengths of vine a few inches above the ground and a few inches apart. She had twisted the vines together and stretched them between sapling anchors, to which she tied each end with some of her kerchief rags. The rest of the rags she stuffed in her apron pocket. She studied her work. It wasn't hemp, but it might just give her the advantage she needed.

Rose took a deep breath to steady her nerves, then positioned herself just in front of the stretched vines.

“Janey, Marjorie,” she shouted. “Where are you? Come on out, it's just me, Rose, and I want to help you.” She waited a moment, then another moment. “Janey? Marjorie? Are you all right?” Yet another moment of silence. Then, as she'd hoped, Thomas appeared in front of her. She ventured a sigh of relief. There had always been the danger that he could circle around in back of her, but she had hoped that by indicating that she was alone, he would choose the more direct route.

“Hello, Rose,” Thomas said. Blood spotted his white Sabbathday shirt, and one sleeve was missing. “Janey and Marjorie are fine, and in any other circumstances, I'd just send you home, but now I'm afraid I can't do that.”

“Why not, Thomas?”

“Oh, Rose. Patience was right, you really have no idea what goes on in your own village. Because, of course, we need time to wait out the storm and then get far away. So you'll just have to come along over and sit with us. Come on.” He took a step forward.

This wasn't what Rose wanted. She wanted him to run. She took a step backward. “You won't hurt me?” she asked, letting fear color her voice.

“Of course not. Why would I hurt you? All we want to do is get away, like I told you.”

“Why didn't you just go? You could have taken a horse and been in the next county by now.”

“Not with everything I've got to haul along,” Thomas said, with a laugh. “Besides, Marjorie is afraid of horses, and she's been frightened enough for one day.” His voice became tender when he mentioned Marjorie. Rose wondered how he could love his children, yet terrify them so.

“What else are you taking along besides your daughters?” Rose asked. “Could it be the profits you've been skimming from the medicinal herb industry?”

Thomas stiffened. “Not so ignorant as I thought,” he said. “Yea, but I didn't steal anything. It was my money; I earned it. I'm a good salesman, and I deserved a salary for my work. Besides, I needed money so I could get my little girls back and take them away to start over. Irene did everything in her power to take them away from me, even taking them to the Shakers. I thought I could get them back by taking them with me when we came here, but Irene came, too, and she watches me like a hawk.”

“She tried to keep you away from your girls?” Rose asked, encouraging him to talk. She might as well learn as much as she could, and every moment brought the other searchers closer.

“She always seemed to be there, like a witch. I think Benjamin was helping her. But sometimes I outsmarted her. I got some candied angelica to my girls a couple times. They liked that. I needed for them to remember their daddy with love and not get poisoned by Irene's lies.”

“What lies did Irene tell?”

Thomas's mouth worked in anger, and he clenched the large fists hanging at his sides. “She said I wasn't fit to be their father,” he said.

“Because you hurt them?”

Thomas took another step forward.
Easy,
Rose thought,
don't rush it.

“You were merely disciplining them, weren't you?”

Thomas's taut shoulders lowered a fraction. “Yea, that's all. I mean, I wasn't a Shaker then, and anyway, I don't
believe in sparing the rod. I love those girls. I want them to grow up right.”

“And Irene? Did she have to be disciplined, too?”

“Irene.” Thomas spat out the name with disgust. “She had a gift the Shakers never saw. Her gift was for making me furious at just the wrong moment. I swear, she waited until I was just relaxing with a few drinks, or I'd been out all day trying to find work and I hadn't eaten, and then she'd go at me. I couldn't help it. She just made me so mad. Especially when she was pregnant; then she had no sense at all.”

“You hit her when she was pregnant?” Rose tried to hide the horror she felt.

“Look, I did everything I could to make sure those babies were okay. I always gave Irene some jimsonweed afterward, so she wouldn't lose the babies. Just a little bit; I knew what I was doing. I even grew it myself because it was hard to get hold of.”

“I see,” Rose said. “But she lost the babies anyway.”

“It wasn't my fault. I wanted those babies, too.”

“And did you grow more jimsonweed when you got here?”

“Nay, that wasn't me, that was Benjamin. Patience and I both knew it, and it was helpful for quite a while. Patience wanted to have better trances, so she told Benjamin she'd keep his secret if he'd keep her supplied with the stuff. Everything went fine, until . . .”

“Until what?”

Thomas shook his head. “That's enough,” he said, and took two steps.

“Until Hugo found out you were skimming profits, right? So you killed him. Then Patience figured out you'd killed him and why, and was planning to expose you—how? When? At the Sunday worship service, in front of the world? That would have been a trance to remember, wouldn't it? You would never have seen your little girls again.” Rose stepped backward quickly but did not turn.

Thomas roared and ran toward her, his beefy arms outstretched toward her neck. The first vines tripped him and snapped. He stumbled and recovered his balance. Without looking down, he ran right into the next vine rope, which threw him flat on his stomach, on top of his fist.

He was winded, just confused enough to give Rose an opening. She ran to him and grabbed his one free arm, twisting it up toward his shoulder blades. It was the only move she knew. She had once witnessed a fight at the farmers' market in Languor, and this was how the sheriff had subdued one of the men. In that struggle, the man had simply let go and given up. Thomas was far too desperate to do the same. He squirmed as he regained his breath, and Rose felt her grip loosen. She threw herself on her knees in the small of his back, hoping her weight would pin him down. Still he struggled, twisting from side to side to throw her off balance. She hung on, keeping his arm tight up against his back.

Rose had no idea what to do next. She had hoped to use the rest of her kerchief rags to tie his hands together, but his one hand was still trapped under his diaphragm. Her best hope was to wear him out, so she focused all her strength on staying where she was. Suddenly he relaxed, and she wondered if she had won. Then she felt his muscles bunch underneath her. Too late, she realized he was preparing for one powerful push, which threw her sideways. She rolled off his back as he staggered to his feet, gasping for air.

There wasn't time to stand, so Rose scooted away from him as fast as she could, hearing the skirt of her work dress rip as she skimmed over sticks and thorns. Thomas lunged for her. As his red face lowered over her, his feet flew out from under him, and he landed, once again, flat on his stomach. This time Andrew leaped on top of him, pulling both the larger man's hands in back of him. Rose overcame her surprise in seconds and jumped to her feet. White-faced with exertion, Andrew held Thomas down as Rose ripped
her apron in two pieces, tied his hands behind his back, then tied his feet together. They left him lying facedown.