A Simple Shaker Murder

by Deborah Woodworth

  Now Rose wasn’t sure what to do. She thought she should wait a few minutes because surely Nora would pick up some bread for the preserves, and perhaps some cheese, if she could find some that hadn’t hardened to a rock after being left uncovered. Rose moved into the area Nora had just vacated and counted seconds until she’d gotten to three minutes. She couldn’t wait much longer, or she might lose Nora altogether.

  She left her hiding place and headed for the stairs. Just as she reached the bottom step, she heard a scraping sound near the door. She flew back to the safety of a storage area, on impulse choosing the one across from the preserves. Nora’s feet appeared, then her arms, laden with food. Rose flattened herself against the wall of the storage area, her cheek touching the rough planks used to shore up the room. Through the cracks, she could smell earth and mildew and ancient dust. It occurred to her to wonder just when the brethren had last done any maintenance in these rooms.

  Rose heard Nora pass the opening, then the earth swallowed her footsteps, and Rose could hear nothing until the cellar door creaked. Hoping it was safe to leave her hiding place, she entered the narrow hallway and headed for the steps leading to the cellar door. A streak of gray light disappeared as the cellar door shut.

  Again she counted, this time for a minute, before she pushed up the cellar door a crack, just enough to see that no one was outside. Another couple of inches told her that Nora was long gone. She eased through the opening as quickly as possible and ran from one corner of the building to the other, looking for the small figure. Her heart beat at a panicked pace as she spun around and saw nothing—until she squinted out at the fields where she had stood earlier. There was Nora, running through the crusty soil, heading south of the village.

  Confused, Rose stayed where she was. There were no trees in that direction, not that she knew of, and surely Mairin wouldn’t be hiding out in the open. As she tried to decide what to do, she saw Nora swerve east, toward the orchard. Of course, the orchard. Instead of running after her, Rose stayed behind the southernmost buildings and headed toward the orchard. She tried to stay in the shadows, since now and then Nora stopped and glanced around.

  Nora had planned this carefully, the clever little imp. There was no one about. It was nearing the dinner hour, and Wilhelm had suggested that everyone return to their retiring rooms to change into their Sabbathday best. The worship service would be held immediately following the evening meal.

  As Rose watched from the southeast corner of the Meetinghouse, Nora entered the orchard from the south end. Even without leaves on the trees, the area was too dense for Rose to see where the girl had gone. She was about to go searching when Nora surprised her by emerging from the north edge of the orchard. She stopped and looked around. She’d piled the food in her apron. Clutching her booty tightly against her stomach, she bolted north, toward the barn.

  The barn made perfect sense. It was the village’s newest structure, rebuilt after the old one had burned down. At Wilhelm’s insistence, they’d built it larger than necessary, in preparation for the new members the elder was certain would arrive soon. There were unused corners and haylofts that might seem safe and warm to a frightened child. She could easily stay out of sight of the brethren as they went about their chores.

  In no hurry now, Rose walked toward the barn, keeping Nora in view, just in case. But this time there were no surprises. Nora disappeared through a small side door of the barn. Rose followed, less concerned now about being seen. She knew Mairin was in the barn. Finding out where was only a matter of time.

  The task turned out to be simple. Rose entered to the familiar and not unpleasant smells of hay and manure. She took a moment to adjust her eyes to the dim light and her ears, to filter out the sounds of grunts and lows and pacing hooves. Within moments, she heard the giggling of young girls, coming from somewhere above her. And nearby.

  She followed the sounds to a ladder leading to a hayloft. She hoisted her long skirts over her arm and climbed the ladder to find Nora and Mairin sitting on a blanket, sharing brown bread, cheese, and preserves, which they scooped out of the jar with their fingers.

  “I see you won’t be needing supper tonight,” Rose said.

  The girls jumped and clutched each other. They looked far from relieved when they saw it was only Rose. Mairin loosened her hold on Nora and straightened her frail shoulders.

  “It’s my fault, not Nora’s,” she said. “Nora just didn’t want me to go without food. I told her it was okay, I’d done it lots of times before, but she’s too nice.”

  “And too enticed by a good adventure,” Rose murmured. Louder, she said, “We three are going to have a little chat.” She settled cross-legged on the blanket facing them.

  “Don’t blame Mairin,” Nora said. “She just got really scared and had to hide.”

  “What scared you, Mairin?”

  Mairin picked at the fuzzy wool of the blanket.

  “Did it have to do with the service scheduled for this evening?”

  The girl’s eyes nicked toward her, then back to the blanket.

  “And did it also have to do with what you saw in the orchard and with whatever frightened you in the woods outside the Schoolhouse the other day?”

  Mairin flashed a coppery glare at Nora, who edged away. “You said for me not to tell Charlotte,” Nora said. “You never said I couldn’t tell Rose.”

  “I meant not to tell anyone.”

  “Nora was worried about you,” Rose said. “She did the right thing. She followed her conscience—and her heart. She’s your friend. And so am I, if you will let me be. You don’t have to do this on your own. We can protect you.”

  Mairin hugged herself and for once didn’t dam her tears. It was a start. Rose slid over to her and put an arm around her shoulders. “Now, tell me,” Rose said, as the crying subsided.

  “I can’t,” Mairin said, hanging her head. “I want to, really and truly, but I can’t.”

  “You want to . . . Mairin, has someone threatened you?”

  Mairin’s mouth dropped open.

  “That’s it, isn’t it? You saw someone hurt Hugh, didn’t you? And that person has threatened to harm you if you tell. It’s okay, Mairin, don’t you see? You didn’t tell me, I guessed, and furthermore, I can protect you. The whole village will protect you. Just tell me who threatened you.”

  Mairin shook her head.

  “If you don’t tell, I will,” Nora said. “I’ve got to follow my conscience, Rose said so.”

  “You don’t even know.”

  “I do so. I know some stuff you haven’t told Rose, and maybe she can guess the rest, like she did before.”

  Mairin lunged at Nora and pinned her to the ground before Rose could stop her. “Don’t, don’t, don’t.”

  Mairin might be used to climbing trees, but she was still suffering the effects of malnutrition, while Nora was bigger and well fed. With a grunt, Nora twisted away from Mairin’s grip and grabbed the smaller girl’s wrists to keep her from trying again. Rose clamped a hand on Mairin’s shoulder, and the fight went out of her.

  “I’m going to tell,” Nora said. “See, she only told me because I found out she was going to hide, and I wanted to come, too, and Mairin wanted to scare me away. She said he’d hurt me if she told—me and you and Agatha.”

  “Who threatened her?”

  Nora’s self-satisfied expression faded. “I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me that.”

  Rose sighed. If adults were as stubborn about keeping their promises as these children, the world would be a better place—and even more frustrating.

  “So you are protecting us. Tell me, Mairin, why did you choose now to go into hiding? Was it your doll?”

  Mairin wrapped her arms around her knees and rocked herself.

  “Your doll that Agatha gave you?” Nora asked. “What happened to it?”

  Mairin rocked harder. “Somebody hurt it,” she said, barely above a whisper.

  Immediately, Rose understood. Mairin
had not hanged the doll; it had been left as a warning to Mairin of what would happen if she talked. Rose lightly touched Mairin’s shoulder. “Are you frightened about this evening’s service?”

  Mairin nodded. “I’m afraid someone will trick me into telling. Then I won’t be able to protect you anymore.”

  “I see. So the man who threatened you will be at the service tonight, and you are terrified that if you say the wrong thing, he will hurt Nora, and Agatha, and me.”

  “He will kill you. He said so.”

  Rose rested her chin on her fists and thought. At least she now knew that Hugh had been killed and that a man was involved, someone who would be at the service. Maybe she could figure it out from there. Most important right now was to keep Mairin safe. Rose was certain that the real target of the threat was Mairin, not her friends. The child was in danger of being eliminated whether or not she told her secrets. Perhaps it was best for now to let her stay scared and hidden, at least until after the service. It wouldn’t hurt to keep Nora out of view, as well.

  “All right, you two. I want you to stay here, out of sight until I come back to get you. And keep very quiet. No giggling. Is that clear?”

  The girls nodded.

  “I’ll explain to Charlotte, so no one notices that you’re gone, too, Nora. It’s close to time for evening meal, so the sun will set in a little while. It’ll be dark in here. Sleep, if you can, but don’t leave. Promise?”

  “Promise,” both girls said together. Mairin’s features brightened with relief, Nora’s with excitement.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  THERE WAS LITTLE ROSE COULD DO BEFORE THE SERVICE, SO she decided to attend the evening meal. At least then she could keep an eye on everyone. She changed quickly into her beige wool Sabbathday dress, newly mended and laundered for winter use. She looked forward to having a new one, woven from Isabel’s true butternut-dyed yarn. As an afterthought, she slid her list of questions about Hugh’s death in the pocket of her dress. On her way out, she made a quick call to the Sheriff’s Office and left a message for Grady to drive out to North Homage that evening, if he could. She wouldn’t be surprised if it was never delivered.

  She joined the sisters in prayer outside the dining room. As she prepared to lead them in, Josie arrived, red-faced and puffing. She stood just inside the door, catching her breath. Concerned, Rose sent the others in single-filed silence into the dining room without her.

  “Is someone ill?”

  “Goodness,” Josie said, shaking her head. “I shouldn’t run so, not at my age. I’ll be the one ill. Nay, I hurried because it’s Andrew, calling from Bloomington, Indiana. Says he must speak with you at once. You’d best do some running yourself.”

  The Infirmary was a short distance from the Center Family Dwelling House, but Rose’s knee kept her from sprinting. It was several minutes before she grabbed up the receiver Josie had left hanging.

  “Rose? Good. I don’t have long. I’m on my way soon to have dinner with one more man who might have some useful information about our visitors, but I wanted to catch you first Is all well?”

  “So far, but Wilhelm is determined to hold a joint service this evening with the New-Owenites.”

  “Well, it could be quite a spectacle. I’ve learned a lot about these New-Owenites. A few leaders stayed behind to, um, take care of matters, while Gilbert and his group paved the way, shall we say.”

  Rose pulled over a ladder-back chair. “There are more of them, aren’t there, waiting to move to North Homage?”

  “‘More’ is a modest word for the number of folks waiting to pack their bags. Gilbert, it seems, made a study of Robert Owen’s methods, hoping both to emulate his successes and avoid his mistakes. Robert had gathered new members by going around the country on a speaking tour and making all sorts of promises he couldn’t keep about the land and the work that would be available to people who moved to New Harmony. They didn’t have to contribute anything, just show up. It was a disaster. So Gilbert decided all he needed to do was find a town that was already organized, had farming and businesses already going, just a need for more people.”

  “How many people?” Rose asked, holding her breath.

  “About one hundred and fifty . . . so far. More are arriving every day, camping out in fields owned by a fellow who wants to come along.”

  “Dear God. How can Gilbert believe such a plan would work?”

  “Gilbert didn’t study hard enough. He didn’t understand that by promising utopia and asking nothing immediate in return, he’d entice all sorts of folks with no skills and no ideals, just as Robert did. Gilbert told them he’d have a complete village for them, with money to take care of them and free education for their children. He mentioned nothing about Shakers already living there, or about faith or vows of nonviolence and celibacy. The leaders I spoke with are at their wits’ end and about ready to send them all ahead to North Homage.”

  “What? Can you stop them?”

  “Apparently Gilbert sent word yesterday that it shouldn’t be long now. I’ve tried to let them know that Gilbert’s promises can’t possibly be kept, but so far no one seems to be listening. It’ll take something dramatic, I’m afraid.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of, too,” Rose said. “Did you find out anything about Hugh?”

  “Quite a lot. I got to talking with a young man named Tommy who has been with the New-Owenites from the beginning. He’s frustrated enough to leave, so he was eager to unburden himself.” Andrew chuckled. “It seems most folks thought of Hugh as an easy touch, generous to a fault. Anybody with a sob story could get money out of him. However, Tommy said there’d been some complaints about Hugh making promises and not keeping them. Seems to run in the family.”

  Rose kept her appreciative laughter short, aware that they had little time. “Could gambling debts have been a factor?” she asked.

  “Tommy said he’d heard second- and third-hand rumors about gambling debts, but he himself didn’t know anything definite. He said Earl and Gilbert might have gotten wind of a gambling problem, because both of them had been at odds with Hugh in the days before they all left. Everyone suspected Earl was half in love with Celia; at least, he was always being nice to her, and she was never nice to anyone. At any rate, Tommy knew there wasn’t much of a marriage between Celia and Hugh.”

  “Was Hugh cruel to Celia?”

  “According to Tommy, it was the other way around.”

  The line crackled, and Andrew’s voice disappeared for a few moments. Rose waited, unwilling to break the connection herself. She fiddled with the lid of an apothecary jar Josie had left on her desk. In the silence, the tinkle of glass against glass made her aware of her isolation. Her thoughts wandered nervously to the evening service. No one would be there to support her, and she had no time to convince Wilhelm he could not control the outcome.

  “Are you still there, Rose? Good, because there’s more. Before they left, Gilbert and Hugh had been arguing. Tommy said he heard part of one argument, and it seemed to be about money for the community and whether the project lived up to its ideals. There was something about ‘the ends justifying the means,’ but Tommy wasn’t clear about that. So that’s about all I’ve found out for now. I’m late, I’d best get going.”

  “Wait, Andrew. One more question. Did anyone see Hugh mistreating Mairin?”

  “Nay, no one did. It’s interesting—again the story seems to be twisted around. Tommy, and several others remarked that they suspected Celia of neglecting and mistreating Mairin. Hugh seemed to be rather fond of her, in his ineffectual way. He talked about changing his will to provide for her.”

  “Truly? I wonder how Celia reacted to that!”

  “Not well, is what I was told. They were heard to argue about it. Rose, I really must go now. If I find out anything else that might help, I’ll call; otherwise, I’m heading home on the morning train. I wish I could be there tonight. Take care.” The receiver clicked, and Rose felt a wave of loneliness.


  “I wish you could be here, too,” she said softly.

  Rose glanced at the small clock on Josie’s desk. Nearly seven. The evening meal would be ending, and very soon everyone would gather across the street in the Meetinghouse, the Shakers’ place of worship. There might be time to snatch some bread from the kitchen first, but Rose wasn’t hungry. Instead, she took her list of questions from her pocket and unfolded it. Many of the questions had now been answered, but she still didn’t know with certainty why Hugh had died.

  She found a pen in Josie’s desk drawer. Next to each of her questions, she wrote down what she now knew. When she’d finished, the pattern of lies was clear. Hugh’s alleged cruelty was a sham. If Celia had complained that he was a tyrant to her, she was lying. But why? If she wanted to be thought innocent of murdering her husband, surely she would have been wiser to claim that she loved him. She certainly loved his money and had every intention of inheriting all of it. If she was involved, she had an accomplice; no matter how unpleasant her temperament, she didn’t possess the strength to hang a man.

  Gilbert, as far as she remembered, had not called Hugh cruel. But by all accounts he wanted Hugh’s money, one way or another. If Hugh had started to withdraw his backing, either because of gambling debts or disapproval of Gilbert’s methods, Gilbert might have thought he’d have an easier time if Celia inherited. Gilbert was pedantic and single-minded in pursuit of his utopian dream—was he also ruthless enough to kill for it?

  Earl was solicitous of Celia and criticized Hugh. Was he in love with Celia—or perhaps only with her money? Like Celia, Earl had expensive tastes. His devotion to New-Owenite principles could easily be deception, to move him into the inner circle.

  As for Hugh’s purported gambling debts, Andrew had found no proof of them. Yet during her painful stay in the South Family Dwelling House kitchen, Rose had heard the New-Owenites express concern about the debts—and about who might come to collect them. Any or all of the visitors might have been tempted to fake Hugh’s suicide, rather than let him waste his inheritance.