Sister Janice, who was nearly as tall as I, carefully carried Benjamin’s basket down the steps to the little cart on the walkway. Leatrice, on the other hand, ran down the steps as if she had just been awarded extra play time. I felt somewhat the same. The children cheered up the morning.
“Do slow down, Sister Leatrice.” Sister Janice looked at me to make excuses for Leatrice. “I fear she hasn’t learned caution yet.”
Leatrice stopped at the bottom of the steps to wait for us. “I’m sorry, Sister Janice. But my feet get itchy sometimes and make me want to run. Does that never happen with you?”
“Nay, but I am older,” Sister Janice said.
“How much older?” I asked.
“I am eleven, and Sister Leatrice is only just seven.” Sister Janice set the basket down on the cart. “Do you want me to fasten the strap?”
“I’ll do it.” I threaded the strap through the openings in the bottom of the basket and up over Benjamin’s middle. Benjamin fussed and Anna Grace giggled as I leaned over.
That made Leatrice giggle too as she hopped from one foot to the other.
I looked over at her. “Are those feet still itchy?”
“Yea. I am sorry.” Her head drooped.
I laughed. “Worry not, Sister Leatrice. While our Sister Janice here has control of her feet, I admit that sometimes my feet feel a little itchy too.”
Leatrice’s eyes popped open wider. “You want to run? With these babies?”
“Nay, not with them. I would fear falling. But yea, there are times when my feet want to walk or even run.”
“Then I won’t have to quit running when I’m eleven?” Leatrice sneaked a look over at Sister Janice. “I do like to run.”
“You don’t have to quit running ever. You merely have to learn the proper time for things. A time to run. A time to walk. A time to sit very still.” Saying that made me remember the chapter in Ecclesiastes where the preacher named all the many times. A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance. So many opposites in that chapter, but so much truth.
Perhaps having these young sisters with me now gave a time to laugh. A time to dance. Even perhaps as the Shakers danced to worship. To everything there is a season.
“A time to listen and a time to talk,” Sister Janice chimed in. “Sister Tansy is always telling us that one. Sister Leatrice struggles with listening, but she’s only been here a few days. I’ve been here four years.”
“Why are you here?” After I spoke, I thought this might be a time I should have stayed silent, but the girl didn’t seem to mind my question.
“My father died and my mother married another. He was not kind like my father, but my mother didn’t know that until after they married. Worse, he had a son who took pleasure in tormenting me in various ways I prefer not to recall.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Nay, there is no need for sorrow. Not here in our village where all is good.” Sister Janice smiled easily. “I was glad to come to the Shakers and live with my sisters here. I only wish my mother had come with me.”
“She did not?”
“Nay. She could not break her marriage vows. The man she married and his son would never be ready to embrace the peaceful life of a Believer.”
“Does she ever come to see you?” Leatrice’s voice sounded very small and sad. I thought she might be thinking of her own lost mother.
“She did.” Sister Janice’s smile slipped away. “But she hasn’t been here for more than a year now.”
“That man could have poisoned her.” Leatrice’s words surprised both Sister Janice and me.
“Why would you say such a thing?” Sister Janice frowned. “He was unkind, but I don’t think he would have done something that horrid.”
I stepped in. “There could be many reasons she has not been here. She could be unwell or tied down with a new baby.”
“Or her husband talked of going west. He might not have let her come tell me that, and she didn’t know how to write so could not send me word.” The girl’s smile came back. “It matters not. I am happy here with my sisters and would not leave were they to want me back.”
Leatrice did not look convinced, but I distracted her by letting her push the cart. Soon she was smiling again. Even Benjamin stopped crying, in spite of it being time for him to nurse. But I did wonder why a child as young as Leatrice would think someone might be poisoned. I pushed that from my mind and was glad for the happy company of the girls.
Sister Janice carried Benjamin’s basket up the two flights of stairs to our room, with Leatrice tagging along behind. When I thanked them, Leatrice grabbed me around the waist and hugged me gently since I still carried Anna Grace. I leaned down and kissed the top of her cap and then stood at the door and watched as they started down the steps.
Sister Janice had promised they would return before the midday meal bell to assist me again. I hurried to peer out the window at the two heading back up the walkway. Leatrice’s feet must have been itchy again as she skipped along beside Sister Janice.
This indeed felt like a time to smile. Perhaps even to dance, if Eldress Maria decided I should go to worship times again. Not that I could ever embrace the Shaker beliefs, but dancing could help a person’s itchy feet.
23
MAY 3, 1850
The days had dragged by until each one seemed a week long. By the third day Flynn was ready to ride back to the Shaker village, but he had given his word to the Shaker sister. Even so, each day he missed Leatrice more, while worry that she might be even half as miserable as he was had his stomach rolling.
At least he hoped the worry was what had his stomach upset and not Irene being more liberal with her special ingredients. But he watched and she dipped out of the same pans or bowls as he and Silas did. The woman wouldn’t poison herself. Silas still took the tonic out on the porch to drink. If Irene suspected him of pouring it out, she gave no indication of that, although sometimes Flynn had the feeling she was laughing at them both.
She had not bothered him again. That could be because he was sleeping in the barn. He told Silas he was worried about one of his mares foaling. Silas knew better, but sometimes a man had to pretend things were different than they were.
Flynn had gone to the new place each day to work on the house that was in even worse shape than he’d thought. The roof had to be fixed first, but for that he needed new shingles. He could down a tree and fashion the shingles himself, but if the wood wasn’t seasoned, the shingles might curl and the roof would be no better than it was now. Nothing for it but to sell one of his horses and buy shingles in town. After he got the roof fixed, he could start on the floors and walls.
Even working every spare moment between training his horses and helping Silas on the farm, he’d be fortunate to have the house livable by the time cold weather came again.
Five months wasn’t forever, but it might feel like forever to Leatrice. And to him. At least she’d get more time for school. And once the week was up, he could go see her so she’d know he hadn’t deserted her. The Shakers separated children from their parents. Everybody knew that. It was one of their strange ways. They might be trying to convince Leatrice to turn her back on him.
That worry had his breakfast doing somersaults in his stomach as he hitched his old mare to the sled loaded down with his tools. He’d hauled the shingles from town to the house the day before, and he was anxious to get the roof on. Besides, if he stayed busy, maybe he could keep from worrying about Leatrice. What if she was already in trouble over there? Already needed him?
He pushed the thoughts away. All those Shaker sisters would watch her and not let her get in trouble. At least not dangerous trouble like falling in a pond. No ice now anyway. The day was warm for early May. He didn’t think she’d jump into one of the Shaker ponds, but who knew how many other ways she could get in trouble? It probably wouldn’t take much to get that old sister frowning at her.
He had to quit thinking ab
out it. Quit regretting taking her there. It was for her own good. She wanted to go to school and she needed to be away from Irene. While she had looked near tears when he left her at the Shakers, she was tough like her mother. She would manage. And he’d go see her when the week was up. Till then he’d work.
He had just torn the last of the old shingles off one side of the roof when he was surprised to see Silas driving his wagon toward the house.
“Need a little help up there?” Silas called after he’d reined in his horses.
“You don’t need to be on any roofs,” Flynn yelled back. He hadn’t forgotten about Pa McEntyre falling off a barn roof. He wasn’t about to let that happen to Silas.
“What’s the matter? You think I’m too old to be any use?”
Actually he did, but he liked the life he heard in the man’s voice. Instead of answering, he peered down at Silas and asked, “What are you doing here?”
Silas clambered out of the wagon to smile up at Flynn. “Irene had a hankering to spend the day in town with some friend of hers. So until time to pick her up, I thought I’d come help you get this old place into shape.” He walked over to the house. “But now that I get a better look at it, I’m not real sure that’s possible.”
“It’s going to take some work.”
“Looks to me you might best tear it down and start from scratch.” Silas stepped up on the small porch and disappeared from Flynn’s sight, but then he could see him through the holes in the roof, walking around inside.
Silas called up through one of the openings. “Come on down. I brung you some dinner.”
Flynn was ready for a break. With the sun directly overhead, the roof was hot, but at least no rain clouds were in sight. He should be able to get the roof covered before he had to head back to the farm to do the evening chores. Especially if Silas stayed long enough to help hoist up the shingles. That would save a lot of trips up and down the ladder.
Silas handed Flynn a ham sandwich and a fried pie. When he noticed Flynn checking it out, he said, “Don’t worry. I bought this in town. Irene didn’t make it.”
“I was just seeing what kind it was.” Flynn took a drink from the jar of water he’d filled up at the well that morning and sat down on the porch steps. At least the rock steps were something he wouldn’t need to fix. “Could be I was wrong about that other.”
Silas kicked over a bucket for a seat and folded the paper back from another sandwich. “Could be you weren’t.” He didn’t look at Flynn.
“You are feeling better, but that might be because of the medicine the doctor gave you.” Flynn took a bite of his sandwich. “Whoever you got this from did a fair job.”
“Got it at the tavern. Seemed money well spent. Food a fellow doesn’t have to wonder about.” He chewed for a minute before he went on. “But you do have to admit that Irene is a fair cook.”
“Better than the two of us anyhow.”
“That didn’t take much, but she cooks up a fine stew.”
They ate in companionable silence for a stretch. Silas finished off his sandwich and Flynn offered him his jug of water. Silas took it and studied the water in the jar for a minute. “You did get it straight from the well, didn’t you?”
Flynn knew what he meant. “I told you I might have been wrong about Irene’s tonic.”
“You might have been.” Silas took a swig of water and handed the jar back to Flynn. He wiped his mouth off on his shirtsleeve. “But you weren’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just what I said. You weren’t wrong. And it’s not just Doc’s pills that’s got my legs back under me.” Silas looked off toward the trees beside the house. “It was the tonic. Or I guess not drinking the tonic.”
“You sound awful sure about that. Did you find the can of powder Leatrice was talking about?” Flynn kept his gaze on the man’s face.
“Nope. Something worse. I’m feeling real bad about it.” Silas looked back at Flynn. “Figured I’d better tell you to see what to do about Leatrice.”
“Leatrice? She’s away from it all at the Shaker village.” Flynn frowned. Silas was talking in circles.
“That’s a good thing, I’m thinking.” Silas sighed and rubbed his hands up and down his thighs. “But it’s that kitten. You know, the one Leatrice asked me to take care of for her. Muggins, wasn’t it?”
“I think that’s what she said. What about it?”
“Found it this morning out by the woodpile. Dead as a doornail. I don’t know what I’ll tell Leatrice.” He looked down at the ground.
“That wasn’t your fault. Kittens have a way of dying or disappearing. Leatrice will understand.”
“Well, it was sort of my fault.” He rubbed his hands up and down his thighs again, then looked straight at Flynn and went on in a flat, matter-of-fact voice. “That’s where I’ve been dumping my tonic. I never thought about anything licking it up, especially not those barn cats. The stuff tastes awful. But Leatrice did warn me the gray-and-white kitty was prone to trouble. Guess it found it.”
“Could be we ought to be more worried about us finding trouble.”
“You mean me.” Silas looked off toward the trees again.
“No, us. If you’ve got trouble, I do too.” Flynn watched the man who kept staring off into the distance.
“I’m the one who brung us the trouble.” His voice went quieter. “Maybe I should just drink the tonic and let it do its work.”
“That’s crazy talk, Silas.” Flynn grabbed the man’s arm and made him look at him. “We don’t have to let her get away with this. We can go to the sheriff.”
“With what? A dead kitten?”
“Well, you can kick her out. Take her back to town and tell her you’re getting a divorce.”
“I’ve heard divorces aren’t that easy without proof one or the other has been unfaithful. I don’t think Irene has been running off with anybody else.”
Flynn could have told Silas about her being in his bedroom, but he thought it best not to mention that. The man already had too much weighing him down. “Poisoning you sounds like plenty of reason.”
“If I could prove it.” Silas shook his head. “The way things stand right now, if I tried to divorce her I’m thinking the courts would be on her side. She might get enough of a settlement that I’d have to sell the farm. I’m not wanting to lose the farm. It was my daddy’s before it was mine, and I aimed to pass it on to Lena and now to you and Leatrice. That’s what Beatrice wanted too. She set a lot of store by you, Flynn.”
“She was a good woman.”
“Yes.” Silas slapped his hands down on his thighs. “Anyhow, I’ve figured it out.”
“You can’t drink the tonic.” Flynn narrowed his eyes on Silas.
“No, I reckon not. Might serve me right for going off half-cocked and marrying Irene, but I’m thinking straighter now. It’s like I told you the other day. Once you get this house fixed up, I’ll sell you my farm for a dollar and you can sell me this place for two dollars. Sound like a fair price?”
“A little cheap for yours.”
“My farm to sell at whatever price I set.”
“But, Silas, I’m still not sure about you doing this.”
Silas waved his hand through the air as though to shove aside Flynn’s doubts. “I don’t want to hear it. I’ve done made up my mind, and if you’re worried about Irene, don’t. If she raises a fuss, I’ll sign this place over to her.”
“I doubt that will make her happy.”
“I’m not worrying about her happiness. I am worrying some about Leatrice’s when I have to tell her about Muggins.” He looked worried. “What do you think?”
“Don’t fret about that. Leatrice has handled worse sorrows. And by the time she gets to come home, there might be a new litter of barn cats. For now, if she asks about Muggins, I’ll tell her. If she doesn’t, we’ll let it ride until I see how things are going for her at the Shaker village. The other three kittens are still mewing, aren’t they?”
Silas nodded. “I buried the gray-and-white one, but the others were up in the loft. I’ll have to find a better way to get rid of the tonic.”
“You could just tell Irene you don’t need it anymore.”
“I could, but then I’d have to wonder what she might doctor up next. I figure I’m better off just pretending to sip that tonic and then dumping it. Guess I’ll need to cover it up with dirt from now on. Wouldn’t want to lose any more of the girl’s kittens. She did seem to set store by them. She have cats to play with over there at that Shaker village?”
“They don’t have cats. No use for pets, or so one of the men told me.”
“They’re peculiar, those people. But I hear they eat good.” Silas wadded up the paper his sandwich had been wrapped in and pitched it to the side.
“Leatrice won’t go hungry. But, Silas, I miss her. I’ve half a mind to bring her home.”
“Best not do that just yet. Give the girl time to learn to read and us time to get this place fixed up.” Silas stood up. “So finish eating that fried pie so we can get a move on. I ate my pie on the way over here. Couldn’t wait on it.”
The work did go faster with Silas tying bundles of the shingles to a rope and Flynn hoisting them up to the roof. He was almost through with the whole side he’d torn off when Silas said he’d have to go get Irene.
“You’ll be careful, won’t you?” Flynn said.
“You’re the one should be careful. The ground’s hard when you fall from that high up.”
“I mean you need to be careful around Irene. You can’t trust her.”
“True enough, but I’m thinking she’s not the type to stab a man in his sleep.” Silas brushed off his hands. “Fact is, I’ve been sleeping in the girl’s room the last few nights. Irene says my snoring keeps her awake. That’s why she has to sleep half the morning away. But I note she hasn’t been getting out any earlier since I give her the bed.” He brought his eyes back around to look at Flynn on the roof. “How’s sleeping out in the barn?”
The Refuge Page 19
