One corner of Hawk's mouth curled up in something that resembled a smile as he wiped Brother Issachar's blood from the blade onto his pants before shoving it back in his belt. "Last of all," he said. "Never love nobody too much. You can believe your old pa on this one. Won't bring you nothing but grief'
Ethan turned his eyes away from him out to the street as Brother Issachar leaned more heavily against him. "Help. Somebody help us!"
One man turned and looked toward them before ducking his head and hurrying on. Nobody else seemed to even hear him.
Hawk laughed. `Ain't nobody gonna be rushing over here to mess with the likes of me. You'd best quit squawking for help and see to your preacher friend there:' Hawk inclined his head a bit toward Brother Issachar. "He looks to be bleeding a mite. Could be he might need a doctor."
Ethan wanted to lunge at him and choke him with his bare hands. But he couldn't turn loose of Brother Issachar.
"Let him go," Brother Issachar whispered.
"He doesn't deserve to live" Ethan spoke the words with force.
"That's not our decision to make" Brother Issachar pulled himself up to stare straight into Ethan's face. "We're men of peace. We must leave matters of revenge in God's hands" In spite of how he had to struggle for breath, his words were strong and sure. "Let him go."
"Best listen to him, son, unless'n you want your blood mixed with his" Hawk's good eye bored into Ethan. "I ain't never been overly sentimental. But it ain't been all bad meetin' up with you' He grinned and patted his pocket where he'd stuffed the money. Then he looked almost sad as he went on. "It's kinda a shame you fell off that raft all them years ago. The two of us coulda made a good team"
"I didn't fall off. I jumped' Ethan stared at him coldly.
"Ungrateful sons. The bane of fathers everywhere" Hawk laughed and ambled away without looking back once. A little way down the street, he tipped his hat at two women who jerked their skirts to the side away from him.
"It will do no good to chase after him with hate. Help me inside where we can examine the wound and see how bad it is' Brother Issachar took a step toward the boardinghouse door and almost fell. Ethan practically had to carry him inside.
It was bad. Mrs. Davey brought pans of hot water and, amid a flood of tears, professed her sorrow for sending word to Hawk Boyd that his son was at her boardinghouse. "I didn't have no idea he'd do nothing like this. I mean, me and Hawk, we go way back, and I just thought I owed it to him to let him know about a son like the boy here. But I didn't think he'd show up so fast. Maybe not till you were gone. I must have lost my senses"
Brother Issachar forgave her before he sent her to fetch a doctor. Ethan cleaned the wound as best he could, but the knife had gone deep. When the doctor came, he shook his head and spoke of the danger of infection, even gangrene with such a deep knife wound, before he put in stitches. `A bullet wound is oftentimes easier to treat," he said as he closed his bag. "If he gets feverish, send someone for me"
Ethan mixed the powders the doctor left, but Brother Issachar refused them. "The pain is not so bad as long as I'm still;' he said. "I'll wait for Sister Lettie's medicine"
"But how are we to get home?" Ethan asked. "We have no money.
"Worry not. He only got today's money. The rest is safe:" He groaned as he rose up off the bed far enough to pull up his pants leg. Another pouch was tied to his calf. "We'll start home tomorrow as planned, my brother." He lay back and shut his eyes. He held his side and took shallow breaths.
Ethan wanted to lay his head over on the bed and weep. He had caused this. "I am sorry, Brother Issachar. I am so sorry.
Brother Issachar slowly opened his eyes and settled them on Ethan's face. "You did not put the knife in my side. You have no reason to be so contrite"
"It's my fault. My curiosity about my father led him to us. My anger made him hurt you."
"Yea, there is truth in some of what you say, but there is no profit in dividing out blame once a thing is done. We can only pray some good may come of it:"
"How could good come from this?"
Brother Issachar seemed to be searching for an answer. Finally he said, "I know not, but the good Lord knows. Our lives are always in his hands" He reached over to grasp Ethan's hand and shake it a bit. `And I am not dead yet. Don't put me in the grave before it is time to do so'
"But you are hurt"
"Yea, that I am, and I may die from it. But I don't want to die in New Orleans. I want to see Harmony Hill again" He turned loose of Ethan's hand and let his eyes fall shut again. "Now go post a letter to our brethren and sisters so that they can pray and exercise a dance for me"
When Ethan returned from posting the letter, Brother Issachar was asleep. His breath in and out was steady and he only groaned when he moved. Perhaps there was yet hope that he would live. Ethan knelt by the bed and prayed to the Eternal Father, to Mother Ann, to the Christ, and any other spirit that might be listening. Then he took off his shoes and got to his feet. Quietly he marched back and forth as he would have if he'd been in the meetinghouse at Harmony Hill. As he moved his feet in the familiar steps and turns, he closed his mind to the truth that surely he was Hawk Boyd's son.
The corncrib burned in the wee hours of the morning just after the start of the new year. The crib was out past the West Family's barn on the outskirts of the village, and by the time one of the brethren got up to relieve himself and noticed the flames, the fire had already engulfed the building. Brethren from the West Family went out to make sure the fire stayed contained to the corncrib, but there was no reason to arouse the entire village from their beds to attempt to save what could not be saved. Especially since a light snow was falling that virtually eliminated the chance of sparks igniting any nearby structures.
Elder Joseph reported the loss of the corncrib and its contents at meeting that night. His narrow face was grim as he stood in the middle of the meetinghouse and spoke. "Those of the world continue to persecute us. They don't understand our ways nor do they want to learn the true way to salvation. They simply seek to cause us harm as they continue blindly on their way to their final destruction. Perhaps they think they are testing our faith and our resolve to stay true to our beliefs, but if so, they are sorrowfully mistaken. We are well familiar with how Mother Ann was persecuted by those of the world, thrown into jail, mocked, and mistreated, but she did not allow it to turn her feet from the true way. Nor will we. With the help of the Lord and Mother Ann, we will overcome each adversity."
When Elder Joseph stomped his foot to emphasize his words, many of the Believers followed his lead as a murmur of agreement rippled through the room. The bench where Elizabeth sat vibrated with the sound, and she couldn't keep from jumping a little, even though it was not unusual for a stomping spirit to take over the Shakers during meeting. They considered it a gift of the spirit to whirl in dance or stomp their feet and shake all over until sometimes they fell prostrate on the floor as if smitten by the Lord. The first time she witnessed a sister shaking violently before she fell to the floor as if dead, Elizabeth was alarmed. With a glowing smile, Sister Melva assured her that Sister Darcie was shaking free from all that was carnal and would rise from the floor a transformed person better equipped to embrace the simple life.
Elizabeth had yet to feel the first tremble of such spirit, which Sister Ruth said showed her lack of belief. At first Elizabeth had argued against that, for she knew the faith in her heart, but she could win no argument with Sister Ruth. She had learned that Sister Ruth's sermon would be shorter if Elizabeth simply nodded and said, "Yea, it must be so. I will seek to open myself more fully to the spirit"
Now she smoothed down the folds in the skirt of her dress to cover her unease and looked across the room at Payton, who sat beside Brother Micah on one of the benches on the men's side.
His eyes were on Elder Joseph, listening raptly, wanting to believe. He looked like one of them with his hair grown out into the Shaker style, long in the back and in the front cut straight acros
s his forehead. The men on the bench with him were different sizes, different ages, yet they looked as alike as peas in a pod with their identical clothes and hair and attentiveness to the elder's words. Elizabeth wondered if in another month she would even be able to pick Payton out from among the men at meeting. He would be that much like all the others.
She studied his face for even the slightest sign of guilt about the fire and then upbraided herself for her suspicions. Just because the corncrib was close to where Payton was sleeping meant nothing. Her brother had done wrong and set fire to their cabin. She knew that for a truth, but surely he had not done so for the pleasure of seeing the flames. It was his grief for their father and his anger at Colton Linley that had kept him from thinking clearly. He wouldn't set fire to anything else. It was as Elder Joseph said. Someone from outside the village. Someone from the world.
She turned back to Elder Joseph. She hoped no one had noticed her inattention or how her eyes had gone to the brethren's side of the meetinghouse. If so, she would have to confess such a lapse in proper behavior to Sister Ruth. A Shaker believer was expected to confess every sin, from speaking a lie to not hanging up one's apron properly. Novitiates were encouraged to do the same to better prepare their spirits for acceptance of the Shaker way. At times Elizabeth made up this or that minor infraction just to satisfy Sister Ruth's need to hear confession of wrongs she had done.
Elizabeth dared not reveal her actual wayward thinking or resistance to the many Shaker rules that covered even how one climbed the stairs. Often as not, Elizabeth intentionally stepped upon the first tread with her left foot instead of the proper Shaker way of right foot first. Sister Melva had caught her at that more than once, but thus far had believed it was simple forgetfulness rather than willfulness. Sister Ruth was not as forgiving, so Elizabeth was relieved to see out of the corner of her eye that Ruth's attention seemed to be focused completely on Elder Joseph.
The elder was still talking of the Believers' resolve in the face of hardship. "That crib was almost empty and we have others with plenty of corn for our fowl and milk cows. We will have ample time to rebuild the crib before next fall when we have need of it again. With Mother Ann's blessings, we'll continue to give our hearts to God and work with our hands in this place. Now let us go forth in an exercise of peace. Let us labor a dance in hope that those who persecute us will turn from their wicked ways and become repentant"
Elizabeth lined up with the women to dance. The steps had not proved hard to learn, but the first few times Sister Melva had encouraged her to participate in the dancing exercises, she had worried she'd make a wrong step and spoil the unity of the dance by bumping into someone. Perhaps even one of the brethren, for the men and women often marched in parallel lines or adjoining but non-touching circles. But once Sister Melva showed her the pegs and markers in the floor, she had no problem remembering when to turn and change directions in the marches and didn't mind laboring the songs.
She enjoyed the singing. The voices of the chosen singers were clear and lilting. The songs were simple and easy to sing so whenever it was allowed, she readily joined her voice in with the others. But neither the singing nor the dancing made her feel spiritual. Yet she wondered if, like Payton among the brethren, she too looked like any other Shaker sister in her blue dress and white scarf and cap. She was being drawn into the fold, assimilated into the whole. It was not a comfortable thought.
Her eyes caught on dear Hannah on a corner bench, not dancing, not singing, just staring out at the air as if seeing something there no one else could see. A few curls had sprung out from under her cap, and in spite of the child's solemn expression, Elizabeth's spirits lifted. Hannah would never be absorbed into the whole to be just another set of hands and feet on the body of the Shakers. She would always be Hannah.
Elizabeth tried to catch her eye as she marched past her, but Hannah refused to look at her. She knew she was there. Elizabeth could tell by the way Hannah lifted her chin and shifted her eyes purposely the other way. She was angry with Elizabeth. She didn't want to be the good little Shaker sister Elizabeth had made her promise to be. Nor did Elizabeth, who wished she could step out of turn and go pull Hannah up into a whirling exercise that had nothing at all to do with the Shakers or their way of worship. But Sister Ruth was watching, and a bitter wind was whistling outside against the meetinghouse walls. What choice did she have but to continue the dance?
Two weeks later Elizabeth was summoned from her work duty to Sister Rosellen's room at the Gathering Family house. Clouds the night before had dropped several inches of powdery snow on the village, but the morning had brought a brilliant blue sky and crisp, yet bracing air. The brethren had already shoveled clear paths between the buildings, but the fields and garden plots looked pristine as they sparkled in the sunlight, untouched by the feet of man or animal.
Elizabeth wanted to grab up a handful of the snow to feel its coldness in her mouth, but she restrained herself for fear Sister Ruth and Sister Melva who walked on either side of her would think it frolicsome. While they hadn't revealed the reason Elizabeth was being summoned, she doubted it could be good. Even Sister Melva had a deep-seated frown between her eyes. Elizabeth had the unsettling feeling she was being escorted to a prison cell.
Actually, the last two weeks had been the best Elizabeth had spent at the village. She had been assigned to work with Sister Lettie in preparing and labeling the dried roots, barks, and herbs for the sister's medical potions. Sister Melva had been released to other duties since she had no interest in the healing sciences, and even though Melva was kind spirited, it had been a relief to be free of her company and the constant drone of Shaker teachings for a few hours each day. Instead Elizabeth eagerly listened to Sister Lettie explain the curative properties of the different roots and herbs.
Sister Lettie had joined with the Shakers in the state of New York before the turn of the century. Except for the gray hair that peeked out from under her cap and the brown age spots on her hands, Elizabeth might have guessed her much younger than the sixty-five years she proudly claimed. She was small of stature, barely reaching the top of Elizabeth's shoulder, but she seemed to radiate energy and her step was quick. She had little patience with those who came to her with superficial wounds or complaints, but unending patience for those she deemed in real need of her treatment.
The first day they worked together she talked of her path to the Shakers. "My situation was much as yours, Sister Elizabeth. I had no husband nor did I desire one when I sought shelter at Watervliet. My father was a yarb doctor, and after he died, I had no prospects. The Shakers welcomed me and my knowledge of roots and allowed me to continue to learn. That in itself was a gift and one not many young women are given even in this day and age. The Ministry inquired into sending me out to a medical school, but none would allow a woman"
Sister Lettie made a face and threw out her hands as she continued. "Backward. Very backward of those of the world. I offered to masquerade as a man" Sister Lettie laughed a little. "That idea shocked the Ministry a tad, I must say. I had to make confession of my rashness in Meeting the next Sunday. But I could have pulled it off. I've never been very fair of face, and I could have cut my hair in the Shaker style for men and put on Shaker pants. It would have worked"
"But aren't you a little small for anyone to believe you a man?" Elizabeth asked.
"Yea, you have a point:" Sister Lettie tilted her head and gave Elizabeth the eye. "You on the other hand are tall as many men, but your face:" She clicked her tongue and shook her head with a sigh. "Way too pretty even with your hair all stuffed away under your cap. It appears we'll have to continue on as we've been doing. Never fear. An attentive person can learn much by watching others. My father shared his knowledge freely with me before he died, and there was a sister in Watervliet who knew much about the healing powers of roots and barks'
"But how do you come to be here at Harmony Hill?" Elizabeth asked. Sister Lettie didn't mind questions. Questions were
the avenue to learning, she said.
"Some years ago the sister here who had a gift for mixing medicines crossed over the great divide somewhat unexpectedly and without training a new sister to carry on her work, and so they had need of someone. Since I had trained several sisters in the art of physic medicines at Watervliet, I was able to leave them without worry. I had always had a desire to see the west:"
"Have you shared your healing gift with sisters here?" Elizabeth looked up from pounding the ginseng root. It was much valued, so she was careful not to let even a speck of the powder escape the bowl.
I don't think it a healing gift. More a gift of learning. Perhaps a gift of observing to see what works best. Several of our sisters have learned from me, but none have shown the hunger to learn more that I always felt. I have suggested training one of the brethren, but the Ministry say that wouldn't be seemly. Perhaps a doctor will join our Society here and add his knowledge to ours. That would be a true blessing from Mother Ann' Sister Lettie looked heavenward as if entreating Mother Ann to hurry the blessing. She looked back at Elizabeth. "Or perhaps you are the one who has been sent to us with the hunger to learn. I hear it in your questions"
"I doubt that could be;' Elizabeth said before she thought. She felt so comfortable with Sister Lettie that she often forgot to speak the proper answers.
"Why is that, Sister?"
Elizabeth hesitated and Sister Lettie went on. "Don't fret. What you say to me stays with me. It is my way. And there are no hidden eyes peering down on us here. I insist it be so in order for those in need of my treatment to feel free to speak of their health complaints"
Elizabeth let out her breath. "I cannot feel the peace here that I see in your face. I don't think I am meant to be a Shaker'
The Believer (The Shakers 2) Page 17
