The Tears of God

by David Thompson

  Still, the Indians said the valley was bad medicine, and the Indians should know. It had been Nate’s experience that their legends were steeped in truth. Maybe the facts had been twisted in the many retellings, but if they said the valley was bad medicine, then by God, it was.

  With that troubling thought, Nate drifted off. He slept fitfully. A loud hiss awakened him once. Another time, it was a slight shake of the wagon. The ground was quaking again. The tremor only lasted ten seconds, but it was unnerving just the same.

  Dawn had not yet creased the sky with the glow of the rising sun when Nate climbed from the wagon, and stretched. He was stiff and sore and famished.

  The patch of green at the valley’s heart covered about ten acres. Already the Shakers had chopped down a third or more of the trees to build their cabins and the corral. Nate gathered an armful of limbs and got a fire going near the corral. He put coffee on to perk and hunkered close to the flames for the warmth.

  Leather hinges creaked, and a figure emerged from the building reserved for the men.

  “You’re up early,” Nate said.

  Arthur Lexington wore his beatific smile and carried a large Bible. “I am always the first up.” He gazed across the valley as a baron might over his domain. “I’m surprised to find you back so soon. I thought you were coming with the wagons.”

  “There’s a complication,” Nate said, and told him about the Pawnees and the dead farmer and the dead wrangler.

  “Ah. You came ahead because you feared for our safety? I thank you for your concern, but you needn’t worry about us. The Lord will watch over us and deliver us from harm.”

  “Tell that to Sister Benedine.”

  Lexington’s smile widened. “I assure you that her soul is in Paradise even as we speak.” He paused. “Do you like us, Brother King?”

  “Like has nothing to do with it. I don’t understand you,” Nate confessed. “I don’t savvy why you chose here, of all places, to settle.”

  “Ah,” Lexington said again. “Perhaps all will be made clear if you attend our evening gathering.”

  Just then the ground shook. Nate gave a start and reached for the coffeepot to steady it.

  “Isn’t it glorious?” Lexington said.

  “Doesn’t it worry you just a little?”

  “Why should it? This valley has been here for ages, I understand. Those high walls, that stream, are unchanged from the dawn of time.” Lexington chuckled. “The tremors are nothing to be afraid of. Quite the contrary. They speak to the glory of God.”

  “You’ve lost me.”

  “You’ll understand this evening, I promise you,” Lexington assured him. “You and the freighters are to be our guests.”

  Once the sun was up, Nate searched outside the valley for sign of the Pawnees. He found none, but that only meant Kuruk was being clever. The Pawnees were around somewhere, watching and waiting for the right moment to strike.

  By the time Nate returned, the Shakers were once again bustling like bees, human bees that hummed and sang and smiled. The men chopped trees, hewed logs, and worked on the third building. The women washed clothes in the stream or skinned potatoes for the cooking pot or worked on quilts.

  Despite the incident with the bear and Nate’s warning about the war party, no sentries were posted.

  Nate needed to talk to Lexington but couldn’t find him. He spied Sister Amelia by the corral and asked to see him.

  “Elder Lexington is in the men’s quarters,” Amelia said, with a bob of her double chin at the log dwelling.

  “Will you take me to him?”

  Amelia’s eyebrows rose. “Haven’t you been paying attention, Brother King? In our society men and women never mingle except when they must. I am no more permitted to go into their living quarters than they are to enter our living quarters.”

  “Do you like it that way?”

  “What a silly question,” Amelia said. “I wouldn’t be a Shaker if I didn’t.” She glanced over at the men sweating and toiling, and sniffed. “To be honest, I have never felt comfortable around men. You are peculiar creatures, every one of you.”

  “Some ladies like us.”

  “Don’t be flippant. Ideally, God would never have separated us to begin with unless it was meant to be.”

  “Care to explain?”

  “Men and women, Brother King.” Sister Amelia gestured at her brethren. “The Shakers believe that the male and female principle are both present in our Maker. In other words, God is both man and woman, yet so much more, of course.”

  “If God is both, why do you split them up?”

  “Because He did. Clearly it’s a sign. We are not meant to live together. Nor, might I add, to sleep together.”

  Nate was compelled to point out a flaw in her reasoning. “If everybody did as you do, no babies would be born. The human race would die out in a few generations.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?” Sister Amelia smiled. “Besides, we don’t have that long left. Elder Lexington expects the Second Coming before the decade is out. There is no need for more babies.”

  Nate excused himself and walked to the male quarters. He knocked, but no one came. Figuring most of the men were busy elsewhere, he tried the latch. A musty, dark hall led past room after room. Each contained a bed and some a chair and a few a chest of drawers. At the far end a lamp glowed. Nate came up quietly and stopped in the doorway.

  Arthur Lexington was on his knees, his eyes closed, his hands clasped to his chest. His lips moved in silent prayer.

  Nate waited. At length Lexington lowered his hands and said aloud, “Amen.” Nate coughed to get his attention.

  “Brother King!” Lexington exclaimed, rising. “How long have you been standing there? What can I do for you?”

  “I came to beat your head against the wall.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Nate entered and straddled a chair. “I wasn’t fooling about the Pawnees being out for blood.”

  “I never thought you were,” Lexington responded.

  “Then why haven’t you taken my advice and posted lookouts? If you won’t arm yourselves, at least do that much.”

  “Oh, Brother King,” Lexington said in a tone that implied Nate was being silly. “Love thy neighbor, remember? Were we to post sentries it would betray our beliefs. We must trust in God and He will deliver us.” He went to a table and picked up his Bible. “In any event, by your own admission the Pawnees aren’t after us. They are after you.”

  “That didn’t stop them from killing the farmer I told you about, and that wrangler,” Nate noted.

  “I have faith, Brother King. I am firmly convinced that if we leave them alone, they will leave us alone.”

  A premonition came over Nate, a feeling that if he couldn’t make Lexington understand, terrible things would happen. He tried to shrug it off as of no consequence, but he couldn’t. “I could lend you my pistols. You could have two men keep watch down at the bend with orders to give the alarm if they so much as glimpse a painted face.”

  “You are persistent, Brother King. I will give you that. But we are talking in circles.” Lexington moved to the window and parted the curtains, admitting sparkling shafts of sunlight. The window had no glass. “God is not to be trifled with. Either you believe or you don’t. Either you abide by His will or you don’t. We do. To us His will is everything. For me to post guards or to take arms is the same as saying we don’t believe. We can’t do that, Brother King. Not now. Not ever.”

  Nate stood. “I’ll keep watch myself, then, until the freighters get here.” He turned to go.

  “Don’t be mad.”

  “I don’t want any of you dead because of me.”

  “It wouldn’t be your fault. Each of us does what he has to. If it will make you feel better, I’ll send someone with you. He won’t use a gun and he won’t resist if the savages attack, but he can keep you company.”

  “Forget it.” Nate stalked out, simmering. He kept trying but it was l
ike talking to a tree stump. Once outside, he stopped and stared at the gaping black maws of the cave and the bubbling springs and the steam rising into the air. His premonition worsened.

  Something awful was going to happen.

  It was only a matter of time.

  Chapter Eleven

  The religious ceremony was like nothing Nate ever saw. It was like nothing he ever imagined.

  It started normally enough. The Shakers gathered between the log buildings, the women on one side, the men on the other, in rows. Arthur Lexington read from Scripture and expounded on what he read. The thrust of his message was that they must stand firm in their faith. They must remember that Adam tainted all mankind when he had relations with Eve.

  “Sexual impurity is the root of all evil. Sexual impurity is the great sin. It was the reason for the Fall. But we have redeemed ourselves by refusing to succumb. We deny our carnal urges. We cast them aside and live as the Lord always meant for men and women to live, as equals, as brothers and sisters, with none of the taint of Adam’s legacy.

  “We must be strong. We must stay pure. We must resist temptation each and every moment. Always remember our eternal reward for staying true to our Lord’s command to be perfect.

  “Here, in our new home, we will build a reflection of that reward. We will have a heaven on earth, a place where we may live in peace, a place where the Lord reminds us of his love daily by the shaking of the ground under our feet.”

  Nate glanced at Jeremiah Blunt, who was seated cross-legged on his right. The freighters were gathered behind them. They had been permitted to watch but were not to interrupt or interfere in any way. Lexington was quite insistent, and Blunt had said he and his men would honor the request. “What does the shaking of the ground have to do with anything?” Nate quietly wondered.

  “I have no idea,” the captain confessed.

  A few hymns were sung, each with increasing fervor. A lot of the Shakers swayed as they sang. Some raised their arms and cried out to their Maker. By the sixth song, all of them were swaying and stamping their feet. Then, as if with one mind, the Shakers began to move. They formed into concentric circles. In the center was a small circle of women, then a circle of men, then another circle of women, and last another circle of men. As they moved they raised their voices to the heavens and danced in short, rhythmic steps while waving their arms aloft. Many cried out as if in the grip of ecstasy.

  Round and round the circles went, the inner clockwise, the next counterclockwise, the third again clockwise, the last as the second. They sang and they danced and they swayed. A spontaneous trembling broke out and spread from worshiper to worshiper so that soon all of them were shaking as they danced, quaking from head to toe, their faces aglow with spiritual rapture. The longer it went on, the more violent their shaking became. Halleluiahs and other cries pierced the air.

  “I get it now,” Jeremiah Blunt said.

  So did Nate. The way they were quaking and trembling: exactly as the ground did. Arthur Lexington had taken it into his head that it was a sign. To Lexington and his followers, the Valley of Skulls was a special place where the earth under their feet moved as they did.

  Nate gazed at a bubbling hot spring and at the steam rising from another, and was troubled.

  On and on it went, the dancing and singing and shaking, ever more intense, ever more feverish. Suddenly a woman burst out shouting in a strange tongue. A man did the same but in a different tongue. Then others, all of them with their eyes closed and shaking violently, many of the women and a few of the men with tears trickling down their cheeks.

  “It is a wonderment,” Jeremiah Blunt declared.

  Presently a woman collapsed, overcome by her ardor. Several others did likewise.

  The fervor was at its peak.

  Then, like a clock winding down, it began to slow. The songs became slower. The dancers slowed. The trembling and shaking slowed until finally the Shakers came to an exhausted stop. Drained yet beaming with joy, the women and the men again formed into their respective rows and turned sweat-stained faces to their leader, who had stepped out of the group to address them.

  “Once again we have affirmed our love and our faith. Once again we have felt the Lord among us and in us. Now let each of us rest from our labors and partake of one another’s company as equals and brethren.”

  The service came to an end. There was no hugging, no kissing, not even a shaking of hands. They looked on one another and smiled and spoke in soft voices.

  Lexington came over to the freighters, Sister Amelia in his wake. “Well, gentlemen. What did you think of our service?”

  “You are an amazing people,” Jeremiah Blunt said.

  “We do the Lord’s will, nothing more,” Lexington told him.

  Sister Amelia stepped up. “If any of you have been moved to join us, we would gladly welcome you.”

  Several of the freighters laughed and Haskell said, “Ma’am, we thank you for the offer. But me, I’m a married man, and I couldn’t live without that impurity you’re not so fond of.”

  “Me, either,” another man declared. “I buy it real regular when I’m in St. Louis.”

  More laughter caused Jeremiah Blunt to swivel and say, “That will be enough.”

  The freighters fell silent.

  Arthur Lexington turned to Nate. “How about you, Brother King? Does our style of life appeal to you?”

  “I’m married, too,” Nate said.

  “Marriage is no obstacle. Bring your wife, if you want. Of course, the two of you could never have relations again, but you’re more than welcome.”

  “Marriage without sex?” a freighter blurted. “Where’s the point in that?”

  More laughter caused Blunt to say sternly, “When I say enough, I mean enough.” He smiled at Lexington. “I’m afraid my men are too fond of their earthly ways to give them up.”

  “Suit yourselves, but we are always open to new members. Keep that in mind should any of you change yours.”

  The elder and his shadow went to mingle with the rest.

  Blunt leaned toward Nate. “Are you as concerned by this as I am?”

  “By the ceremony?”

  “No. By this,” Blunt said, and smacked the ground with his calloused hand. “By the damnable tremors.”

  As if that were a stage cue, the ground under them shook. Not hard, but enough that the horses in the corral pranced and whinnied and some of the oxen bellowed in fear.

  “See?” Blunt said.

  Lexington raised his arms aloft. “Did you feel that, Brother and Sisters? It was the Lord affirming our faith. Let us give thanks and praise that we have been led to this holy place.”

  “Holy, hell,” a freighter scoffed.

  Nate held his own counsel. According to the Indian legends, the ground in the valley had been shaking since any of the tribes could remember. The Shakers were welcome to call it the handiwork of the Lord if they wanted, but in his opinion shaking ground was, well, shaking ground.

  “We’ll spend tomorrow unloading,” Jeremiah Blunt said. “I expect to leave by ten the next morning. Are you coming with us as far as Bent’s Fort?”

  Nate hadn’t given it any thought, but he did dearly want to get home and be with his family. “I might go with you a short way and then strike off through the mountains.”

  The Shakers were dispersing. At Blunt’s command, his men rose and walked toward the freight wagons, now parked near the Conestogas of their hosts.

  Nate found himself alone, but he didn’t stay that way. He sensed rather than heard someone come up behind him and went to turn.

  “Don’t look back,” Maklin’s voice came over his shoulder. “Wait until I head for the corral so they won’t think I’ve spotted them and told you. Then come join me.”

  “They?” Nate said.

  “The south side of the valley, the high cliff with five caves. Look at the very top, but don’t let on that’s what you’re doing.”

  When the Texan didn’t
say more, Nate said, “Maklin?” but got no answer. Rising, he shifted enough to see him walking off. Nate stretched and pretended he had a cramp in his leg and raised it up and down a few times. As he did, he peered from under his eyebrows at the cliff Maklin mentioned. The cave mouths were awash in the red glow of the setting sun. The cliff itself was slate gray.

  Nate saw nothing out of the ordinary. Not at first. He had to flick his gaze back and forth several times before he saw what Maklin had seen. He couldn’t make out much detail at that distance but he didn’t need to. He made for the corral.

  Maklin was saddling his horse, his back to the cliff. “It will be dark before we get up there.”

  “The dark will work against them as much as it does us.” Nate nodded toward a cluster of Shakers. “What puzzles me is you putting your life at risk for people you don’t much care for.”

  “We have to do something or it will be my wife all over again, only worse. No one deserves that.”

  Nate was careful not to move with undue haste as he slid a bridle on the bay and then his blanket and saddle.

  “I can ask Blunt for more men to go with us,” Maklin suggested.

  Shaking his head, Nate said, “The more who ride out, the more suspicious they’ll be. Just the two of us, they might think we’re going off to hunt.” He led the bay from the corral, swung up, and poked his heels. No one called out to them. No one wondered where they were going.

  “We’ll have to do this smart,” Maklin said as they neared the bend.

  “I never do anything any other way if I can help it,” Nate replied. Too often, though, what he took for smart turned out to be less so.

  Once out of the Valley of Skulls, they rode straight on into the forest. As soon the canopy hid them, Nate reined to the south. He rode as fast as the terrain and the gathering twilight permitted.

  The ground rose in a series of broad shelves to the canyon rim. Forest covered about half. The rest consisted of grassy belts broken here and there by boulder fields.

  Nate avoided open ground as much as possible. The climb was steep and arduous, and often they stopped to scan the next stretch to be sure they didn’t ride into an ambush.