Now Mitchell turned away from the window and tried to push thoughts of the young widow out of his mind. But he couldn’t. At the end of the week, he’d have to make another visit to be sure she’d vacated Whitlow’s house. And if she hadn’t? He didn’t want to think about that.
Maybe he could ask around town and see if there were any positions open for a young woman. It wasn’t his job to find her a place, but he’d feel a lot better about putting her out of her house if he knew she had somewhere to go. He took another look out the window at the barbershop. After breakfast, he’d get that haircut. Billy Hogan had his ear to the ground. He might know if anybody was looking for help.
An hour later, Mitchell took off his hat and settled in the barber’s chair.
“Wondered when you’d get around to coming by.” Billy draped the cape around Mitchell’s shoulders. “Been needing a cut for a while.”
“Things have been busy,” Mitchell said.
“Yeah, I heard Curt Whitlow made you go with him to that poor Kearney girl’s house out near Oak Spring Church.” Billy combed and clipped.
Mitchell made a sound that could mean yes or no. Billy was like Mrs. Snowden. He didn’t need much encouragement to keep talking.
“Ambrose Kearney was a fine young man. You never knew him, did you?” He looked at Mitchell in the mirror across from the chair.
“No, can’t say as I did,” Mitchell said.
“He made a bad deal on that house, but guess he didn’t know better than to borrow money from Curt.”
“Lots of people have.”
“And lived to regret it.” Billy pushed Mitchell’s head forward to trim the hair along his neckline.
“You one of those?” Mitchell peeked up at the barber in the mirror.
“Naw. I paid the man what I owed him. I don’t have to give him free haircuts no more. He sits in my chair, he pays these days.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
“You see him last night or this morning?” Billy paused, his scissors still in the air behind Mitchell’s head.
“No, not since Friday.”
“You don’t say.” Billy began snipping Mitchell’s hair again. “I figured he’d be knocking down your door.”
“Why’s that?”
“Got a nasty dog bite, according to Doc Baker. Said it looked like the man had been in quite some tussle when he showed up at his door yesterday afternoon to get his arm stitched up. Mud and blood all over his clothes.”
“Doc Baker been to get a haircut this morning?” Mitchell asked.
Billy laughed a little. “Not today, but word gets around.”
“He say what dog got Curt?” Mitchell knew which dog he was suspecting, but he didn’t have much sympathy for the man. He told him to stay away from the Kearney woman.
“Haven’t heard if he did. Thought maybe you had. I figured Curt would be after you to do something about it.”
“I haven’t been to the office yet.”
“Could be he’ll hunt you up yet.”
“Could be.” Mitchell hoped not.
Billy was quiet a minute as he combed and cut. Then without raising his eyes from Mitchell’s head, he said, “I hear that Kearney widow has a dog.”
“Lots of people have dogs. The town’s full of them.” Mitchell kept his eyes away from Billy’s mirror.
“True enough,” Billy agreed. “I used to have an old dog here in the shop with me. Fine company on slow days, but then he wasn’t vicious. Couldn’t have had him if that had been the case.”
Mitchell didn’t bother saying Carlyn Kearney’s dog wasn’t vicious as long as nobody bothered his mistress. He’d worry about taking up for the dog once he heard Whitlow’s story. It might not have been her dog. He sincerely hoped not.
When Mitchell asked about jobs in the town that a woman might be able to do, Billy shook his head. “Can’t think of anything offhand, but I’ll keep an eye out. Who’s it for? That Mrs. Kearney?”
He hadn’t wanted to mention Carlyn Kearney’s name, but Billy had a way of figuring out more than a man said. “Right. I hear she doesn’t have any family around here to help her out.”
Billy unwrapped the cape from around Mitchell and swept the hairs off Mitchell’s neck with his shaving soap brush. “I haven’t seen her for a spell, but best I remember, she’s a pretty thing. I’m surprised she’s not already married again.”
“She’s not as sure she’s a widow as everybody else seems to be.” Mitchell got out of the chair. “Her husband’s listed as missing, not dead.”
“Yeah. She’d be better off knowing for sure she was a widow, but she’s not the only woman in that boat. I read in the papers that there are thousands of soldiers unaccounted for. War’s a sorry thing.”
Mitchell walked down to his office, glad Curt Whitlow wasn’t there waiting for him. Then, that bothered him too. If Whitlow wasn’t demanding something be done about the dog attack, there had to be a reason. One Whitlow wasn’t ready to admit.
Later, for his peace of mind, Mitchell would ride out to Carlyn Kearney’s house to check on her. It didn’t have anything to do with how pretty she was. It was his job.
But then, that afternoon before he found time to make that trip, she came to him. Riding in a Shaker wagon. With a rope around her dog’s neck.
8
The Shakers were kind, even Eldress Lilith with her somber face, but that didn’t mean they would bend their rules. Not for a newcomer. Certainly not for a dog.
Carlyn followed the eldress to the imposing brick building beside the post office. She left Carlyn on the walkway while she went to the door to summon this Sister Muriel. Then she came back to stand beside Carlyn to await the sister who would have the necessary answers. Carlyn kept her hand on Asher, as silent as the eldress. She bent her head and considered prayer. To perhaps remind the Lord she had a dog. But he already knew that.
At last a Shaker sister came out the large double doors. She was dressed much the same as the other Shaker women, in a faded blue dress with the wide white neckerchief lapped over her chest and a long checked apron practically covering the front of her skirt. She looked to be near the same age as the woman beside Carlyn, but instead of the stern stoniness of Eldress Lilith’s face, this new sister’s face was soft and gentle. Even so, she hesitated on the broad stoop and visibly shuddered when she noticed the gun Carlyn had once more tucked under her arm and pointed at the ground. Then she looked even more distressed when Eldress Lilith nodded toward Asher.
“Sister Muriel, the young sister has sought us out for help,” Eldress Lilith said.
The woman came down the steps, a concerned smile hovering around her lips. “My dear sister, you do bring problems with you.”
“I didn’t know about your rules against dogs.” Tears jumped to Carlyn’s eyes as she was all too aware of the familiar comfort of Asher leaning against her. “I can leave.”
“Nay, let’s not be hasty,” the sister said.
“She has not told me her trouble.” Eldress Lilith spoke up. “Only that she has nowhere else to go.”
“Yea, those in the world suffer many trials.” Sister Muriel answered the eldress but kept her eyes on Carlyn, who was beginning to feel like the lost soul they obviously thought she was. The lost soul perhaps she was.
But no, her mother had assured her, once in the Lord’s hand, he didn’t drop any of his children. Not unless they willfully pushed away from his love and ran from him. Even then, he kept his hand outstretched for his child to return. Just as the prodigal son’s father had in the Bible story.
“Is that true, my sister?” Sister Muriel’s voice was as gentle as her face, as she reached toward Carlyn but stayed her hand short of touching her.
Carlyn drew in a breath. “I thought the Lord was pointing me toward your village as the answer to my need. But he knows I have a dog.”
“Yea, the Lord knows everything and Mother Ann is ever ready to help those who desire to follow the Shaker way.” Sister Muriel loo
ked over at the eldress. “Is that not true, Eldress Lilith?”
“Yea,” the eldress said. “If the Lord sent you here in answer to your prayers, young sister, then he will give you an answer for your distress over your dog.”
Sister Muriel smiled fully all across her face. “If you ask with faith.”
“And the willingness to accept the answer,” Eldress Lilith added without a smile.
“Why can’t he stay here in one of your sheds or barns?” Carlyn looked around. There were buildings everywhere.
“We have no dogs.” Sister Muriel’s voice was kind but also firm. “It is not the Shaker way. But there are many such dogs in the town. One more can surely find a place there.”
“He won’t leave me to go into the town,” Carlyn said.
“The animal does seem attached to you.” Sister Muriel studied Asher, then raised her hands up toward the heavens. “Let us ask for an answer.”
Eldress Lilith lifted her hands too, but neither of the women spoke a word aloud. Carlyn lifted her free hand high alongside them. It wasn’t the attitude of prayer she was used to, but it didn’t feel wrong. Hadn’t her mother sat at the table with her hands open in front of her to receive the Lord’s answers? Answers she received time and again. And accepted without wishing for different ones. At least not as far as Carlyn knew.
Carlyn closed her eyes even though the other two women did not. The sound of horses’ hooves and the creak of a harness interrupted her attempt to pray.
Sister Muriel dropped her hands down with a sound of victory. “There’s Brother Thomas on the way to the town. The Lord has supplied our answer.”
“Or Mother Ann,” Eldress Lilith said.
Carlyn wanted to ask who this mother was, but bit back the question. She looked to her mother for answers. Why shouldn’t they? Perhaps they were actual sisters instead of merely Shaker sisters, even though they shared no family resemblance other than their like dress.
Sister Muriel stepped out to the fence to flag down the wagon. The Shaker man pulled back on the reins to stop his horses.
“Are you on the way to the town, Brother?”
“Yea, have you a need for something there?” the man answered.
“Nay. We have a dog that needs to be carried to the town,” Sister Muriel said.
Carlyn opened her mouth to protest when the memory of the sheriff asking to pet Asher popped into her mind. Another answer, perhaps. Not the one she would most like, for it made her heart hurt to think of giving up Asher, but the dog would be safe with the sheriff. If he would take him in. More need of prayer.
The brother studied the dog for a moment. Then he climbed down from the wagon and rummaged under the seat until he found a rope. “Best tie this around his neck.” He made a loop in one end of the rope and handed it across the fence toward Carlyn.
“He’s never been tied.” Carlyn took it with reluctance.
The brother looked straight at her. “I doubt he’d stay in the wagon without a rope to hold him there.”
“I’ll go with him,” Carlyn said.
“Do you mean to find new answers in the town, my sister?” Sister Muriel asked.
“Only for my dog. The sheriff there. I met him last week. He might know of a place for Asher.”
The two women looked doubtful, but Brother Thomas spoke up. “Sheriff Brodie is a good man for one of the world. The young sister may be right to count on his help.”
“And then what?” Eldress Lilith’s eyes bore into Carlyn.
Carlyn pulled in a deep breath and faced her future. “Then I’ll return and find a place here if you have one for me.”
“We turn no sister in need away,” Sister Muriel said. “Brother Thomas can bring you to me after you are rid of the dog.”
Brother Thomas nodded toward the rope. “Best put it around his neck, young sister, to be sure nothing along the road entices him away from us. A squirrel. Another dog. Dogs are prone to be off on a chase, and I must be about my errands with no time for running down dogs.”
The three Shakers stared at her with impassive faces that expected her to do as they said. With a murmur of apology to Asher, she slipped the loop over the dog’s head. If the Shakers heard her, they gave no indication.
Then the brother pointed at the gun. “You will have no need of a weapon.”
“I have needed it in the past.” Carlyn’s hand tightened on the gun. Curt Whitlow lived in town.
“But you are beginning a new life now. One where, engaged in your duty, you will have nothing to fear.” Brother Thomas gently lifted the gun away from her and propped it against the fence. “Sister Muriel will have a brother fetch the gun.”
“But—” Carlyn looked at the gun, “I’m not a Shaker yet.”
The brother paid her words no mind as he turned back to the wagon. “Climb in and call your dog up after you. He might use his teeth on me if I try to put him there.”
After Asher jumped up in the wagon, Carlyn settled on a box toward the front of the wagon. Asher leaned against her, trembling at the strangeness of it all. Or perhaps because he sensed her own tremble. She was losing everything. Even her carpetbag. She’d left it there on the ground beside the two Shaker sisters.
As the wagon began moving, Carlyn wanted to ask Brother Thomas to stop so she could retrieve it. Perhaps in the town another way would open to her. But she didn’t call out. She needed to accept the answer already given.
She leaned close to the dog and spoke to him in whispers Brother Thomas couldn’t hear over the creaking of the wagon wheels. “You will make Sheriff Brodie a wonderful dog.” She would not let herself think about the sheriff turning the dog away. “You remember him. You wagged your tail when he rubbed your head. It will be good.” She stroked down his head and back. “It will. You’ll have food. I’ll have food and a roof. Each day it is given unto us that which we need.”
Something like that was one of her mother’s oft-quoted Scriptures. Needs and wants were not the same. She wanted Ambrose home months ago. She wanted flowers around her house and chickens in her yard. She wanted Asher on the front porch guarding the door. But she needed food and shelter. That would be supplied by the Shakers who did not embrace the gift of a dog. So her second need was food for him.
She stared into Asher’s dog eyes. He stared back, trying to figure out why they weren’t at their house going about their daily chores. Even so, he didn’t bark or pull against the rope around his neck. He trusted her. She stroked his fur and leaned her head against his. He had survived before showing up at her house. He would survive again. She would as well. As one of the odd Shaker sisters.
When they finally reached the town, Carlyn kept her head bent as they rode down Main Street. She didn’t want to chance Curt seeing her and pointing an accusing finger at Asher. She was glad when Brother Thomas stopped in front of the sheriff’s office first thing.
He looked back at her. “I ask you to be ready when I return, for I would not like darkness to overtake us on the way back to the village.”
“I will be ready.”
Carlyn climbed out of the wagon and Asher jumped down after her. His legs were shaking and his tail curled under him. She knew how he felt as she turned toward the sheriff’s office. The door was closed. What would she do if he wasn’t there? She gripped the rope around Asher’s neck and stared at the door, willing the sheriff to appear as the Shaker brother flicked the reins and started his horses away.
“Mrs. Kearney, are you looking for me?” Sheriff Brodie didn’t come out of the office but down the street instead.
She turned toward him. “Yes.” That seemed to be the only word she could force out. What she really wanted to do was sit down right there on the walkway and give way to tears, but she’d already dissolved in tears in front of this man once. She would not do so again.
“Come inside.” He gestured toward his office. “It will be cooler there and you can tell me what you need.”
The sun was warm for September, but
she’d hardly noticed once she got to the Shaker village. She hesitated, her free hand on Asher’s head.
He noticed and added, “Your dog is welcome inside too if that’s your worry.”
As if Asher knew he spoke about him, his tail eased away from his body to flap back and forth. He took a step toward the sheriff. That good sign unfroze Carlyn’s tongue. “I have come to ask a favor from you.”
9
She looked so unsure that yes was on Mitchell’s tongue even before hearing what she had come to ask him. When he noted her hand trembling as she held the dog’s rope, he wanted to put his hand over hers to calm her. He put the brakes on his feelings. She hadn’t come looking for a man. She was looking for a sheriff.
“I’m here to help.” He hoped his words would be true and he could help her. But it would be best to hear what she had to say before making promises, no matter how the sight of her weary eyes touched him. She had sweat stains on the bodice of her dress, beggar mites lining the hem of her skirt, and the trace of tears on her cheek.
He pointed toward his office again. When her feet still seemed attached to the walk, he put his hand under her elbow to guide her to the door. Her dog didn’t growl. That was a good sign. His heart speeding up at her nearness was not.
She perched in the chair in front of his desk as he took the chair behind it. He needed to keep some distance between them. After giving her a moment to gather herself, he asked, “What can I do for you today?”
“It’s about Asher.” She stroked the dog’s head with a hand that was definitely trembling. At the sound of his name, the dog eased closer to her.
Mitchell prodded her to continue. “What about him?” Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. Not if her face was any indication. He wished he hadn’t gone for that haircut this morning. Then he might not know about a dog biting Curt Whitlow.
She pushed out the words in a rush. “You know I don’t have the money to pay Mr. Whitlow for the house and no family near who might take me in until . . .” Her voice faltered. She moistened her lips and went on. “Well, since Ambrose didn’t come home. The Shakers will take me in.”
The Innocent Page 7
