The Refuge

by Ann H. Gabhart

  “So it is, young brother. So it is.”

  Flynn handed the rope to the boy and let him lead the horse out into the sunshine. “I named him Jack, but you can change his name if you want.”

  “Nay. Jack sounds a good name for a horse,” the boy said.

  Outside, after they made the deal, Flynn said, “Will you take him now or do you want me to bring him to your village later?”

  “We can tie him to the back of the wagon,” Brother Hiram said.

  But even after the horse was tethered to the wagon and Brother Andrew and the boy were back in place, the Shaker didn’t flick the reins to start his horses moving.

  “Is there more I can do for you? Your horses need water?” Flynn asked.

  “There is something. You have a reputation for healing horses,” Brother Hiram said. “A convert has brought a horse into our village that hangs his head and refuses to work. We’ve tried several treatments but nothing works. We thought perhaps fresh eyes might see something we missed. We will pay you for your time.”

  “I can’t guarantee anything.” Flynn met the Shaker brother’s steady stare.

  “Your honest effort is all we ask.”

  Flynn thought of the food he might get in barter for working with the horse. A perfect solution to their empty cupboards. But then he looked toward the house. He couldn’t expect Silas to mind Leatrice all day with how sick he was.

  “I can’t leave my daughter today.”

  “Bring her along,” Brother Hiram said. “Some of the little sisters can keep her company while you work with the horse.”

  Flynn hesitated. He could imagine Leatrice climbing the Shaker fences and paying no mind to anyone. “That might not work.”

  Brother Hiram gave him a curious look. “Why? Is your daughter ill?”

  “Not sick, but sometimes ill behaved. Things have been rough for her since her mother and grandmother died.”

  “Worry not. We deal with many motherless children at our village and teach them proper behavior with loving care.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Flynn had to wonder if the Shaker had been talking to Silas.

  After he promised Brother Hiram to come look at their horse later, he watched the Shaker wagon out of sight. This was surely an answer to their need for supplies, but Flynn wouldn’t mention it to Silas yet. Best wait until he had the food in hand. He didn’t like rushing into things without proper thought.

  That was one of the ways he and Silas were different. Silas didn’t have patience to wait for things to work out. Even for something as common as building a fence, Silas would jump in and set the posts without considering the lay of the land. He wanted it done. Flynn liked things done too, but the right way saved work in the long run. So he thought things through to make sure he hadn’t missed something. He’d learned that working with horses. A man got a better horse if he took time to figure out the animal.

  While he didn’t know whether he could judge what problem the Shakers’ horse might have, he liked the challenge each new horse brought. Could be the Shakers felt the same way about the young people they brought into their villages.

  So he’d go to the Shaker village and take a look at more than their horse, but first he’d have to get up some wood for the fireplace. He hitched Blossom to the sled and headed to the back pasture to work up a tree felled by a storm.

  He was loading the wood on the sled when he spotted Leatrice headed toward him. She was so small making her way through the snow. She might have looked older to him if Lena had been able to carry another child to push Leatrice out of the baby spot. Instead Lena hadn’t been able to hold onto the babies they started after Leatrice, losing them before she got much more than started along the birthing trail.

  Silas must have sent Leatrice out to help Flynn. That was good. The girl needed to do her part. Not that she could do much, but she could gather up the smaller pieces.

  “Don’t be mad, Papa,” she said when she got near enough.

  Flynn leaned on his axe. “Why would I be mad?’

  “Grandpa told me to wait at the house until you got back, but I was afraid I’d forget what he told me to tell you.”

  So Silas hadn’t sent her.“Is something wrong with your grandpa?” Flynn looked across the field toward the house, but he was too far back on the farm to even catch a glimpse of smoke from the chimney.

  Leatrice shook her head. “He left.”

  “Left?” Flynn frowned. “Where did he go?”

  “I don’t know. Said to tell you he might be gone a few days. That he had to do something.” Leatrice’s bottom lip trembled. “Did he leave because I was bad and made him sick?”

  “No.” Flynn laid the axe aside and gathered Leatrice close in a hug. “You didn’t make him sick.”

  She pulled back to look up at him. “He got cold because I went out on the pond. He kept coughing before he left.”

  “He does have a bad cough. Could be he decided to go to the doctor and stay there for a while to get better.”

  Flynn said the words, but he really had no idea what Silas might be up to. Maybe he had taken one of his cows to town to trade for supplies. Or he could have decided to check out the Shakers himself. Flynn couldn’t imagine that, but the man had his own mind. Whatever he was doing, it was his business.

  “Will he come back?” Leatrice mumbled the words against his coat.

  “Of course he will.”

  “Mamaw Bea didn’t.”

  “Well, she couldn’t, sweetheart. She had to go on up to heaven to be with your mama.”

  “Sometimes I wish I could go to heaven to see them. I miss them.”

  “I miss them too. But it’s not time for you to go to heaven. You’ve got things to do down here.” Flynn took off his glove and stroked her hair. She hadn’t worn her hat. “Aren’t your ears cold?”

  “A little,” she admitted. “I couldn’t find my hat. It may be in the pond.”

  “Well, that could be. We’ll have to get you a new one, but until then you can wrap this scarf around your head.” He picked up the wool scarf he’d pitched on the sled after he’d warmed up sawing wood. She let him wrap it around her head. “There, now maybe your ears won’t freeze and break off.”

  “They wouldn’t really, would they?” Leatrice’s eyes got wide as she touched the scarf covering her ears.

  “No.” Flynn laughed. “They’d just feel like they might. Come on. You can help me load the wood and then ride to Harmony Hill with me.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Not so far. It’s where the Shakers live.”

  “Grandpa says the Shakers sing and dance in church. Nobody ever dances when we go to church.”

  “That’s for sure. I don’t think our preacher would be in favor of that.”

  “Then why do the Shakers dance?”

  “They’ve got a different way of doing things.”

  “Mama liked to dance. She danced with me sometimes.” Leatrice swayed back and forth. “I liked that.”

  “She danced with me sometimes too.” He picked Leatrice up and swung her around. “She’d want us to keep dancing.”

  Leatrice giggled. “My feet are supposed to be on the ground.”

  “Not in this dance.” He swung her higher in the air before he set her down. “But now we’ve got to dance this wood up on the sled so we can go visit those dancing Shakers.”

  “Will I see them dance?”

  “Probably not. I think they only do that on Sundays.”

  After the wood was ricked on the sled, Leatrice climbed on top of it and they headed to the house. Bread and milk would have to do for their meal before they headed to the Shakers. But supper might be better if he could trade them out of some applesauce and jam. Maybe a pie.

  He hoped Silas would find a good meal in town.

  8

  Flynn was always a little agog with wonder when he rode into Shaker village. The great buildings of brick and stone seemed to belong somewhere other than in the middl
e of farmland. Maybe in a city somewhere or across the sea, but here the buildings stood, built by the Shakers’ own hands.

  Flynn had built a few things. A barn, a chicken house, a shed, but never anything like these houses with their three stories plus basements and attics.

  When he rode up to the hitching post in front of the Trustee House where business with those outside the village was carried out, Brother Hiram was waiting. They must have been watching for him.

  “Mr. Keller, thank you for coming.” The man didn’t quite smile, but his eyes lightened as he looked at Leatrice wedged in the saddle in front of Flynn. “And your daughter too. I have sent for a young sister to attend to her while you work with the horse.”

  Leatrice shrank back against Flynn. He gently pushed her away to dismount, then lifted her down. She had been excited about coming to see the dancing Shakers, but the sight of Brother Hiram’s solemn face had dampened her enthusiasm.

  “Ah, here’s Sister Faye now.” Brother Hiram gestured toward a young sister in a hooded cape hurrying toward them.

  When she stepped up beside them, she smiled and held out her hand to Leatrice. “Come, little sister. You must be cold after your ride here. Some warm cider will chase away your shivers.”

  Leatrice hesitated. “I’m not your sister. I don’t have any sisters.”

  Sister Faye’s smile got wider. “We are all sisters here. So today you can be a sister too.” Leatrice still hung back, so she went on. “Only for a little while.”

  When Leatrice looked up at Flynn, he nudged her toward the girl. “Go. You’ll be fine.”

  “Very fine. Perhaps you would like to try on a cloak like mine.” Sister Faye swished her cloak to make the fabric rustle.

  “I might.” Leatrice let go of Flynn’s hand. “Will you show me how you dance?”

  “Yea, I can teach you a few steps.” She led Leatrice along the stone path between the buildings. Leatrice didn’t look back.

  “Worry not,” Brother Hiram said when Flynn watched her out of sight. “She will come to no harm here in our village.”

  “I know. Actually, I have wondered if she could attend your school here.”

  Brother Hiram bent his head in a half nod. “That could perhaps be arranged, especially if you would join with us.” He looked over at Flynn as they walked toward the barns. “You would make a good Shaker.”

  “What is a good Shaker?” Not that he planned to be one, but a man like Brother Hiram made him curious. He looked as if he should be working a farm alongside ten strong sons. Instead here he was, a Shaker.

  “One who takes up his cross and follows the Shaker way of unity and peace. We give our hearts to God and work with our hands for the good of all. We leave behind the stress and conflict of earthly love in favor of heavenly love for our sisters and brothers. Such is a better way.”

  Better for whom, Flynn wondered, but he didn’t voice the words. “Were you married before you came here?”

  “Yea, I did commit the sin of matrimony.”

  Flynn frowned at his words. “Surely marriage isn’t a sin.”

  Being married to Lena was the best thing that had ever happened to Flynn. Their union had not been a sin. Were Lena still living, he couldn’t imagine giving up that husband-wife relationship to instead think of her as his sister. He would have broken down every Shaker door that tried to keep him from her. The Bible plainly said a man should cleave to his wife.

  “Such a life can be hard for one from the world to imagine, but once a man accepts it, nothing can disturb his balance.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Yea, nothing.” Brother Hiram lifted up the wooden board that held the barn door shut. “Pity a horse cannot learn the Shaker way.”

  Flynn held his tongue, but he did wonder how the Shakers would replace their old horses if they had no new foals. The Shaker way went against nature.

  The Shaker barn was well built and the breezeway clean. While a few horses nickered at them, the horse in question stood with his head drooped down and paid little notice even when they stopped at his stall.

  “He nibbles at his feed but not as he should.”

  “Has he been exercised?” Flynn studied the horse.

  “Yea. A boy leads him out. The animal shows no lameness when he moves.”

  Flynn stepped into the stall. The horse did raise his head a bit to eye him before drooping again. Flynn ran his hands along the horse’s withers and down his legs. He picked up each foot and checked for something that might cause the horse pain.

  With a hold on the halter, Flynn lifted the horse’s head. His eyes didn’t look glassy or sick. Instead they looked flat, as though he had simply lost interest in any kind of horse business.

  “How long has he been here?”

  “A few months.”

  “Like this the whole time?” Again Flynn ran his hand down the horse. He could feel the animal’s ribs, but he was far from a skeleton. His muscles rippled under Flynn’s touch, and from the look of his teeth, he wasn’t an old horse.

  “Somewhat.”

  “Have you not used him at all? To pull a wagon or to ride?”

  “Not to pull a wagon. We feared this horse would not do his part and put a heavy strain on the others in the team. We tried to use him to power the water, but he refused to do his duty there. We don’t mistreat our animals, but they must work.”

  “What did he have to do to power the water?”

  “We pump water from springs into a water house, then feed it via gravity through pipes to our houses. Horses power the pump by walking in a circle.”

  “So boring work.”

  “Many chores are boring for man or beast but necessary. Even a horse must do its share.”

  “True enough.” Flynn stroked the horse’s nose and the animal perked up his ears.

  “He’s a fine-looking horse,” Brother Hiram said. “But he must work to have a place here. We have no need of pets.”

  “Have you asked his owner about him? How the horse was before coming here?”

  “Sadly, the brother who brought the horse was killed in a riverboat accident.” Brother Hiram leaned on the stall door. “Can you fathom the horse’s trouble?”

  “I can’t be sure seeing him only this once, but my guess is he’s missing something from before he came here. His owner or a stablemate perhaps.”

  The Shaker looked far from convinced. “You think an animal can be sad so long? He has many stablemates here in our barn.”

  “True.” Flynn stroked the horse’s neck. “But sometimes horses form an attachment with something other than a horse. Perhaps a dog or a goat. Even barn cats.”

  “We have no barn cats.”

  Flynn looked around. “What about mice?”

  “We catch mice in humane traps. Then we release them far enough away to no longer be a bother to us.”

  Flynn looked at Brother Hiram, sure he must be joking, but the Shaker wasn’t smiling. The more he knew about these Shakers, the odder they seemed. Dancing in church. Thinking marriage a sin. And now catching and releasing mice.

  Flynn shrugged off the Shaker oddities. He wasn’t there to judge them. He was there to help this horse in front of him. “I can take him to my farm to work with him. In exchange for some dried apples or applesauce. A few jars of strawberry jam would be fine too. Any food fixings you have in plenty.”

  “Yea. Such a bartering deal sounds reasonable.” Brother Hiram inclined his head a bit. “Come with me back to the Trustee House and we’ll write down an agreement.”

  “If you think that necessary.” Flynn stroked the horse’s neck one more time before stepping out of the stall.

  “Best to have things plain so there can be no misunderstandings.” Brother Hiram led the way out of the barn where he looked up at the sky. “We will have one of the sisters bring you supper while you wait. Our dinner bell will be ringing soon.”

  “I should get my daughter then.”

  “Worry not. The young sisters wi
ll see that she is fed. She will be happier with them than waiting with you.”

  He didn’t know how the Shaker knew what would make Leatrice happier, but he kept his peace. A good Shaker meal sounded better than the pot of beans waiting at home.

  Brother Hiram escorted him to a room in the brick Trustee House and lifted down a straight-back chair from pegs on a rail that ran all around the room. The pegs held more chairs turned bottoms up, as well as candleholders and brooms. A small iron stove with a narrow pipe straight up through the ceiling generated enough heat to take the chill from the room.

  “Take your ease. I will check with the trustees about our agreement and bring you supper.” Brother Hiram went out, shutting the door behind him.

  Flynn didn’t sit down. Instead he crossed the room to look out at the walkways cleared of snow. The garden plot on the other side of a plank fence was plowed, ready for spring planting. A few Shakers moved purposefully along the paths toward their destinations.

  It was good to have a purpose. Since Lena had passed, he’d sometimes felt as though he was drifting. At those times he remembered how his father had drifted completely away from his family. Flynn wasn’t about to drift away from Leatrice. Nothing, not adventure, love, riches, was as important as being a good father.

  At the thought of Leatrice falling into the pond, he closed his eyes on the peaceful scene outside the window. Could it be that he wasn’t that good father? That he wasn’t taking proper care of her?

  Flynn opened his eyes and looked back out at the buildings. Sturdy and strong. Warm. She would be safe here. But he couldn’t give her up. Maybe he should consider marrying again the way Silas said, even if his heart felt as cold as the icicles on the pump handle in the Shaker yard. He blew out a breath, glad to hear the door opening to let him escape his thoughts.

  A woman in Shaker dress followed Brother Hiram into the room. Even before she was near enough for him to see what was on the tray she carried, his stomach growled at the delicious scents.

  “Sounds as if we are just in time, Sister Darcie.” Brother Hiram actually smiled.