A Deadly Shaker Spring

by Deborah Woodworth

  “I do have a memory of talkin’ a spell with a couple folks from the world, which I wouldn’t’ve done normally, naturally, but these folks were friendly about us Shakers and said they spent some time living here a long time ago. Seemed nice, and they was real curious about some of the Believers they remembered from the old days.”

  “Were they a man and a woman?”

  “Yea.”

  “Did they give their names? What did they look like?”

  “Just said they were married folks. They looked to be like they was gettin’ on, older than me,” Elsa said smugly and not very accurately.

  “Who did they ask about?”

  “Well, Samuel, of course. The man said he’d been friends with Samuel. Then the woman said wasn’t it sad about Samuel breaking his vows and having a child and all and feeling so guilty that he killed himself. Well, I never heard that before, so naturally I asked more about it, but all she said was the mother was a Shaker sister and how Samuel come to hate her and all. She wouldn’t say no more. And then we just chatted a bit about the old days. I mean, I wasn’t here in those days, and I was curious. They said they’d heard about Agatha being close to the end, and how sad that was, but I made sure they heard the good news. They were such friendly folks.”

  “You told them Agatha was better?” Rose’s heart jumped in her chest. Clearly the man and woman were Klaus and Evangeline Holker. Why would they make a point of asking about Agatha’s condition? “What exactly did you tell them?”

  “Like I just said, the good news. That Agatha came around and can talk again. They seemed real interested to hear it.”

  “What do you know about the attacks on North Homage?” Rose asked.

  “Not one thing.” Elsa plunked her fists on her hips and glowered. “Listen, ain’t no call to—”

  “Did you steal Samuel’s journals?”

  Spots of pink gave depth to Elsa’s flat features. “Why would I do that?”

  “You don’t deny it?”

  “Nay! I mean . . . It was probably Sarah done that. Why don’t you ask her? She was out roaming around the night Samuel died.”

  “How did you know his journals were stolen that night?” Rose asked, her voice a gentle skewer.

  Elsa glared at her in sullen silence for a moment, then said, “I never stole nothin’ in my whole life. I just borrowed them. I’m gonna bring them back.”

  “When?”

  “When those folks are finished with them.”

  “The man and woman you met? You gave them Samuel’s journals! What could have possessed you to do such a thing?”

  “It wasn’t like it sounds.” Elsa began to whine. “They were fond of Samuel, just wanted to see what he’d been up to all those years, that’s all.”

  “Elsa, that’s ridiculous. I don’t believe a word of it.”

  Elsa savagely kicked at a clump of rosemary that hadn’t made it through the winter. “Well, that’s what they said. When I promised to help them out, they told me all about Samuel and Faithfull and their baby.”

  “I see. So you paid for gossip with stolen journals.”

  Elsa’s hazel eyes darkened. “You breathe a word of this to Wilhelm, and I’ll tell him you’re lying. He’ll never believe you. He knows you want to kick me out.” She spun around and left, trampling an emerging oregano plant as she stomped off.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  “NED, FLOYD, YOU LEAD EVERYBODY OFF THE ROAD, gather them together in that field over to the west.” Klaus Holker leaned out the window of his muddy brown Ford and shouted to the men on horseback. “I’ll want to have a talk with them before we move ahead.”

  “That there’s Shaker land, Kentuck,” Ned said. “Just plowed, by the look of it.”

  “It won’t matter by morning.”

  Ned nodded and rode toward the cars and wagons crowding the road from Languor to North Homage.

  “Klaus, we can still leave.” Evangeline sat rigidly straight in the passenger’s seat, staring out the front windshield. “We don’t have to do this. You’ve taught the Shakers a lesson, and Richard will get his land away from them. Why do we have to stay?”

  “Because, Evie, that isn’t enough.” Klaus’ voice was edged with impatience. He watched the crowd gathering in the distance. “You don’t have to be here, you know. You can leave anytime. You always could.”

  “I wish I could,” she murmured, too subdued for her husband to hear.

  “Anyway, I thought you wanted those children so desperately. What we’ll do with them all, I don’t know. In fact, it’s because of them we’ve got to drive the Shakers away completely and get some of their land. No other way to feed all those mouths you want.”

  “Don’t you blame me for this mess,” Evangeline said. “You’re the one who couldn’t let go all those years—tracking Sarah down and finding out about her going back to North Homage, following her to North Homage.” She glanced at her husband’s profile. Excitement erased years from his features. “I used to wonder,” she said, “if you’d fathered her yourself.”

  “She was useful. That’s all.” He reached for the door handle. “What made you change your mind and realize I wasn’t Sarah’s father?”

  Evangeline said nothing. She watched as Klaus maneuvered through the clumps of freshly turned dirt, his eyes on the men and horses clustered in the west corner of the field. When he began addressing them, she slid to the driver’s side, pushed the starter button, and pulled away.

  Caleb, carefully sober, kept some distance between himself and the restless pack of men gathered on Shaker land. He loved crowds when he was drunk, but being sober always made him feel nervous around more than one person at a time. He’d felt that way all the time at North Homage; they never let him be alone. He watched Klaus approach and beam at the men, both calming and encouraging them.

  “Now, friends, I know how riled up y’all are—” Klaus began.

  “You don’t know the half of it,” a man shouted. “My little Amanda, she’s getting rabies shots because of that Shaker rat that bit her. You got any notion what it’s like watching your kid scream in pain and not be able to help her?”

  Angry murmurs spread through the group, and Klaus nodded vigorously. “You can bet I know just how you feel. In fact, I’m glad Laura, my wife, went on home, because she’d feel it like a knife in her heart. That’s why she wants to rescue those kids the Shakers have got hold of. They need to be in safe, clean, Christian homes, like yours and mine.”

  “So what are we waiting for?” growled a burly farmer named Clem standing in front. “Let’s teach ’em a lesson.”

  Klaus’s voice turned soothing. “Now, friends, I’m with you all the way, but we’ve got a way to do this—”

  “Yeah, let’s get rid of them for once and for all,” Floyd Foster yelled.

  Klaus shot Floyd an angry look, and Caleb cringed as he thought about what could happen to Sarah if Floyd had his way. Klaus knew how to work a crowd, and now was the time to bring them back to a simmer. Floyd had blurted out his assigned line at the wrong moment.

  “Right, what are we waiting for?” shouted Clem. “They’re no match for us. I got my hunting rifle, and I’m set to hunt me some Shakers. Come on!”

  The others gathered up their weapons—from rifles to pitchforks—and surged around Klaus and Caleb. “Now, folks, we can do this without bloodshed,” Klaus pleaded. “What if one of you got hurt? What would your families do?” But men’s angry shouts and the neighing of excited horses drowned Klaus’s voice.

  For Rose, the evening meal had passed uneventfully but with a rising sense of anxiety. She believed the apostates had planned a final onslaught, and surely it would happen soon, but she could not guess what was coming. She wished to avoid creating panic in the village, and she could think of no quiet preparations to make besides calling Josie to warn her of impending trouble and to ask her to begin preparing Agatha to be moved, if necessary. Otherwise, Rose could only wait. She barely tasted her corn chowder, or the b
aked chicken that followed. Finally, she gave up and slipped away from the table before the others had finished.

  The Center Family Dwelling House had a small parlor for infrequent visitors from the world. Since it was empty, Rose decided to use the telephone to try calling Grady O’Neal. Not that she had anything to report. It was the only action she could think to take, and she badly needed action.

  There was no answer at either the sheriff’s office or Grady’s home. Her call went unanswered, as well, at the Languor flower shop where Gennie worked. Dinnertime for everyone.

  Rose wanted to hide in her retiring room and go through Samuel’s journals, but she had yet to tell Wilhelm about her discoveries at the apostates’ house in Languor. He would be in the Ministry dining room. She knew Elsa was right. He’d never accept her accusation that Elsa had stolen Samuel’s journals. He wanted so desperately to believe in her gifts that he quickly forgot anything that revealed Elsa’s duplicity. Yet she must warn Wilhelm about the potential danger to the village.

  It was dusk when Rose left the Center Family house. Before turning toward the Ministry, she glanced down the center road toward the Trustees’ Office. She saw a car drive into the village and park next to the Society’s Plymouth. A tall figure emerged. With long strides, he reached the Trustees’ Office front door and entered without hesitation.

  Rose changed her mind about talking to Wilhelm immediately. Grady had probably decided to drive over, just to be on hand. Wilhelm could wait. He’d be safe enough—and safely out of the way—in the Ministry House at the other end of the village.

  She suffered increasing doubt as she approached the building and the shape of the car emerged. It was not the dusty old Buick that Grady usually drove. But perhaps he had driven his own car. He came from wealth, after all. He could afford a car.

  Rose’s office was lit. She rushed in the door, Grady’s name hovering hopefully on her lips. Richard Worthington sat in her desk chair, facing the door.

  “Ah, Rose, I thought you would arrive soon.” Everything about him—his teeth, eyes, even his shoes—seemed to glitter with self-satisfaction.

  “Why are you here, Richard?”

  “To help you out of a very nasty mess, as you’ll soon see.” A small stack of papers lay on Rose’s desk, next to Worthington’s elbow. He handed it to her. Rose paced the room, skimming the pages.

  “You want us to deed over some of our richest farmland to you?”

  “Not to me; to the bank.”

  “Which means you.” Rose tossed the sheets back on the desk. “That land was given to us by your mother. She signed the covenant of her own free will.”

  “Of course you would know that,” Richard said. “You were trustee. You know the history of every parcel of land you people own.”

  Rose longed to throw open the windows and let in fresh air, but night would only chill the room more.

  “I can understand your sentimental attachment to that land, Richard, but—”

  “Sentimental?” Worthington’s voice sparked with anger. “You understand nothing. You never did. I thought you might have learned something when you left here, but then I heard you came back. You let yourself get fooled. But none of that matters.” He gathered up the papers. “I want you Shakers to return to me what’s mine—mine and Rickie’s.”

  “Are money and land all that matter to you, Richard? Did we teach you so little?”

  “You all taught me more than you’ll ever know. You taught me that people can call themselves humble Believers while they steal other people’s land. You taught me . . .” With a visible effort, Worthington released the rigid tension in his body. “Never mind. We don’t have time for this. Some very angry folks are on their way to North Homage, and I’m your best hope for stopping them.”

  “What?”

  “A mob, Rose. Just like the old days. Wilhelm will enjoy that, won’t he? He’ll probably want to face them alone. Maybe he can stage a dramatic death for himself.”

  “Who are these people? Who is leading them?”

  “We don’t have time to—”

  “It’s Klaus Holker, isn’t it? And his wife, Evangeline.”

  “You’ve been doing your research.” Worthington pulled a gold watch from his vest pocket. “We have a few minutes,” he said. “I suppose you deserve to know your enemies.”

  Rose pulled up a chair and faced him.

  “Yes, you’re right,” he said. “Klaus and Evangeline are behind these attacks on North Homage. Caleb Cox is their willing dupe, in exchange for good liquor and a chance to impress Sarah Baker.”

  “What is your connection with these people?”

  “We were all friends, of a sort, here at North Homage. We all hooked up again about a year ago, when Klaus showed up.”

  “He came back to avenge your mother’s death?”

  Worthington blinked rapidly. “You really have been busy, haven’t you? Klaus thought no one knew of his feelings for my mother. I suppose Agatha figured it out? Yes, Klaus loved Faithfull, who loved only Samuel. More hypocrisy among the celibate Shakers.”

  “Did you suspect that Klaus had killed your mother?”

  “For years I was sure of it. Then he came back to town with this scheme to discredit you folks, and I wasn’t so sure. He’d followed Sarah here, you know. He needed someone on the inside, and he knew she was an unhappy, pliable girl. He kept in touch with Sarah’s aunt, who raised her after her mother—our mother—died. I suppose it made him feel he hadn’t lost Faithfull completely, watching her daughter grow up. But it kept his hatred alive, too. Another man had fathered her. Pathetic fool.

  “Anyway, he got her to help by feeding her bits of information about her mother and about the identity of her father. It was pure luck that she and Caleb hit it off.

  “Now, I’d suggest signing these papers quickly,” Worthington said, nodding his head toward the desk. “Right now, Klaus is whipping that mob into an anti-Shaker frenzy. They are gathered just outside North Homage. He’ll wait for me to get there—if he can hold them in one place that long.”

  “How can you possibly stop them?”

  “By telling them that you’ve agreed to turn over your land and leave.”

  “But that isn’t what you are asking us to do.”

  Worthington shrugged a tailored shoulder. “No, but they won’t know that. Once we get them to calm down and go home, they will stay home. Unless somebody stirs them up again.”

  “Which Klaus could do tomorrow.”

  Worthington nodded and stood, his suit falling into place around his tall body. “But I’m sure that will give you enough time to destroy his influence.”

  “How?”

  “By proving he killed Samuel—or had him killed.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I don’t.” He took a pen from Rose’s desk drawer and held it and the papers out to her. She ignored them. “I do know what Klaus told me,” Worthington said. “He came back after so long because he’d found out that my mother had loved him, after all. That she planned to break off with Samuel and run away with him.”

  “How did he find this out?”

  “You’ll have to ask him.”

  Rose went to her office door and held it wide. “I won’t sign those papers, Richard,” she said. “We will not be blackmailed.”

  Worthington’s face flushed. He tossed the pen on her desk and strode toward the door. “Let’s hope your precious Mother Ann intervenes for you,” he said. “That’s your only hope now.”

  “I pray she will help us save ourselves,” Rose said, as Worthington passed. “And I pray you will save your own soul by coming to our aid—that, instead of more land, you will pass down to your son the compassion you witnessed as a child living among us.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  “WILHELM, FOR ONCE, DON’T ARGUE. WE HAVEN’T time.”

  “As elder, I should confront them. Let them do their worst to me.” The sacrificial glee in Wilhelm’s voice carried over th
e telephone wires, and Rose felt the knot in her stomach tighten.

  “If the mob reaches the village, you’ll have plenty of time to confront them,” she said. “Right now, we need to work fast. We need to gather everyone in the Center Family dining room. It’ll be safer with everyone together. Deputy O’Neal called to check on us. He got sent on another wild-goose chase thirty miles away, but he’s heading back here.” The apostates were well organized. Rose shivered as she realized how easily they had invented emergencies to get Grady out of the way on the evening of the meeting in Languor and again tonight. “If you get the children, I’ll help Josie,” she continued. “Agatha is the only one in the Infirmary right now. Between us, we can move her.”

  Wilhelm grunted his assent. Rose didn’t have time to worry about whether Wilhelm would stay in the Center Family building once he’d herded everyone there. She called the Infirmary. She listened to the endless ring as she darted nervous glances out her office windows. Josie must be in Agatha’s room. She’d run over there as soon as she had shooed out the few inhabitants of the Trustees’ Office.

  Bunching up her skirt to keep from tripping, Rose raced up the stairs. She found Gretchen in the hallway. “Get the others from their rooms,” she ordered, “and all of you get over to the Center Family house.”

  “What—”

  “Now!”

  “Sarah isn’t here,” Gretchen said, as Rose turned to run back downstairs. “She went back to the Sisters’ Shop to catch up on some mending.”

  Rose knew several curses, and she said them silently before switching to a prayer. She ran back to her office. Never mind, she thought, maybe this could work out well, after all. She called the sewing room. Sarah answered promptly and agreed to help Josie bring Agatha to the Center Family house.

  A glance out a second-floor window reassured Rose that the village was quiet. She swept through her retiring rooms and her office, gathering up all the journals she had been using for her investigation. She piled them in a worn basket from the kitchen and left.