A Simple Shaker Murder

by Deborah Woodworth

  “Enough of this blasphemy!” Elder Wilhelm’s voice boomed across the room. “We know the truth already. Do not allow these godless liars to mislead you, brethren. It is a trick—and a test of our faith. Mother Ann will never—”

  “She is here!” Celia’s voice deepened with power. “Mother Ann is standing here beside me.”

  The room grew quiet. Even Wilhelm was stunned into silence.

  “Mother Ann is a shade, like me. She has been trying for countless decades to reveal the truth to you. She loves you, and she grieves when she sees how you’ve lost your way.”

  Across the room from Celia’s drama, Wilhelm conferred with a group of nearby Believers, including the chorus and Elsa. They leaned toward him to hear what must be whispered commands, then they spread apart. The chorus took its place again, and the sisters and brethren passed a message down their rows, which began to straighten. Wilhelm stood with the chorus.

  “Listen. Listen to Mother Ann. Listen to me!” Celia’s voice rose to a higher pitch, but maintained its English accent. This time Celia had done more study—or perhaps she just knew how to imitate a Cockney accent, but not a Welsh one. In a compelling, uneducated voice, “Mother Ann” said, “My beloved children. So often I’ve sent you word of your misunderstandings. I’ve tried to show you the right way. I can’t rest until I have corrected the false beliefs that have been forced upon you in my name. I’ve sent messages through a child—”

  The chorus began a boisterous march, bellowing so loudly that voices cracked. After a few fumbled steps, the Believers clapped, stomped their feet, and marched in time with the music. Celia was startled enough to interrupt her rendition of Mother Ann and scowl at the dancers. Earl stepped forward to whisper in her ear, then pulled a bench away from the wall. Celia climbed on top of the bench, forgoing grace for speed, and faced the Believers, who were coming to the end of their dance. Earl stayed just behind her, well placed to catch her should Mother Ann nudge her off balance.

  Celia inhaled deeply and shuddered. But before she could speak, the chorus began singing again.

  “This is your loving Mother Ann.” Projecting over the ruckus gave her voice a harsh edge. “Listen! You have been duped. Fight these evil leaders of yours. Hear the truth from me!”

  Wilhelm and the chorus joined in with the dancers’ foot-stomping and clapping. Rose’s eyes darted back and forth between the enemies, judging whether it would be wise to leave and call the police, with the hope that she might get Grady. She gave up the idea as Matthew’s group came out of its stupor and filtered among the dancers. At first, Rose thought they planned to join the brethren in the march.

  They slipped through the line of brethren and approached the sisters. Matthew reached one of the younger sisters and reached out a hand for her. She took it. She slid into the circle of Matthew’s arm, and the two began dancing to their own rhythm. One of the New-Owenite men claimed the hand of another young sister and danced away with her. As the couples swirled around the meeting room floor, Rose caught sight of the women’s faces. They were Lottie and Frieda, the young sisters Celia had lectured on the Shakers’ unfairness to women.

  The remaining Believers bumped into one another as they witnessed the sin unfolding before them. Celia, having parted ways with Mother Ann, watched with a smirk on her face. Earl helped her down off the bench and swept her into a dance.

  The brethren’s door to the Meetinghouse opened. Gilbert entered. Rose felt her heart pound in her head. She’d forgotten about Gilbert, had forgotten to worry about what he might be up to. Now it was clear. Behind him, dragging away from his firm grasp, was Mairin. He had found her, and he intended to use her to turn the battle in his favor. Using his free hand; Gilbert grabbed Mairin’s arm and pushed her in front of him. Before she regained her balance, he picked her up and held her around her waist, flopping against his hip. She struggled, but Gilbert had a wiry strength that easily overpowered her.

  So far, Rose was the only one who’d noticed Gilbert and Mairin. Three couples still danced around the floor, and the Shakers were trying to reestablish their dance lines, while a couple of New-Owenite men grabbed at some protesting sisters. Wilhelm threatened the men with eternal damnation in between shouting choruses of a march the singers were belting out with increasingly hoarse voices. For the first time in her memory, Rose cheered Elsa as she executed a deft twirl away from the grasp of a New-Owenite man.

  Gilbert marched Mairin into the center of the room, between the sisters and the brethren. He plunked her down on the floor in front of her drawings, which had been dropped in the confusion. A New-Owenite woman ran forward and arranged the drawings in a circle around Gilbert and Mairin. Taking the girl by the shoulders, Gilbert turned her in a circle around the drawings. He whispered something to her, and she shook her head.

  A primal rage surged through Rose’s body. She felt compassion for the sisters, but they could take care of themselves. But not Mairin . . . Mairin had no one but herself—and Rose. But what could Rose do, besides confronting Gilbert and stealing Mairin away, which might not work?

  Gilbert nudged Mairin toward her own drawings, keeping a tight grip on her small shoulder. Mairin turned slowly until she came to the drawing of the lovely, bejeweled bird with the emerald eyes. She stopped and stared at the image, and Rose made her decision. There was no time for a futile call to the Sheriff’s Office. She ran down the stairs and through the door to the meeting room, no longer caring if anyone saw her. She entered a spellbound room. Even the dancing couples had stopped to watch Gilbert and the little girl. Rose walked openly toward the center of the room.

  “Tell them, child,” Gilbert said. “Tell them all what you have seen, and what it really means.”

  Rose’s senses were alert. Rescuing Mairin was her object, and she had to know her enemy—all of them. Matthew’s group was silent, waiting, while the Believers twittered in confusion. Celia watched, like a rapt play-goer. Next to her, Earl stood motionless and expressionless.

  Mairin reached down and picked up the bird drawing. She held it to her chest as she moved to the drawing of the snake climbing up the tree.

  “Tell them,” Gilbert said, with impatience. “Tell them how rotten their tree of life is. Tell them that you are the child sent by Mother Ann, that their only hope for survival is in giving up their foolish beliefs and joining with us to form a new world.”

  Rose stopped in her tracks, her thoughts tangled in confusion. Gilbert believed what he was saying. He truly believed that the Shakers could be saved only by becoming New-Owenites. He was ruthless, but not a liar. He believed that Mairin was an instrument of Mother Ann and probably Robert Owen, too.

  All at once, several puzzle pieces snapped into place. Everything made sense—Mairin’s fear, the contradictory information about Hugh, even the divergent opinions about Celia. Her mind flashed quickly through the time since she’d returned from the east. She knew she was right. All the confusion had come from one source. One person had insisted that Hugh was a monster and Celia an innocent victim. One man had nurtured the rumor that Hugh was being hunted down by gangsters because of his gambling debts, even though there’d been no sign of dangerous visitors since the New-Owenites arrived: Earl Weston.

  The suicide note was a puzzle. Earl Weston had fed Rose the information that Hugh had sometimes printed, instead of using script. Printing is easier to forge. He must have planted it in Hugh’s room, so Gilbert would find it as he gathered Hugh’s notes. If the note was ever exposed as a forgery, Gilbert would be the first suspect. But why didn’t Sheriff Brock sense a hoax?

  All eyes except Rose’s were on Gilbert and Mairin, in the center of the room. Rose watched Earl as he edged toward the sisters’ entrance. She guessed that he was planning to slip out the door and make his escape. She made an instant decision. The inner doorway she’d just come through also led to a back door. If she could get to the sisters’ entrance as Earl emerged, maybe she could stop him. She considered letting him escape and sending
Sheriff Brock after him, but she doubted the Sheriff’s diligence, and Mairin would never be safe as long as Earl roamed the countryside.

  She ducked through the door, grabbed her skirts, and ran outside onto the dew-soaked grass. The darkness would be useful, she thought. Perhaps she could surprise Earl as he came out the door, catch him off guard. She had no idea what she would do then. Violence was abhorrent to her, but she trusted Holy Mother Wisdom to grant her an inspiration when the time came.

  There was no one in sight when Rose reached the sisters’ entrance. The door remained closed. Rose took the risk of moving to a window and peeking inside, hoping the darkness would keep her invisible to the inhabitants. She could see the area in front of the sisters’ entrance. Earl was still backing toward it.

  She hadn’t expected him to move so slowly. He was several yards shy of the exit. She just had time to slip through the door and trap him inside the Meetinghouse, where the others could help restrain him.

  Rose entered the sisters’ door and closed it behind her just as Earl turned to make his escape.

  “What the hell . . .” Earl said, as he saw Rose. “Get out of my way.”

  “I won’t,” Rose said. “You’ve killed another human being and threatened a child. I can’t let you go free.” Her voice shook. She was well aware of his superior size and strength.

  “Look, just get out of the way.” Earl took a step toward her. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Your real concern is escaping unseen,” Rose said. “If you harm me, the others will come after you immediately; you won’t have time to get away.”

  Earl reached in his trousers picket and withdrew a small object. With a practiced flip, he opened it into a knife. Rose drew in her breath to shout for help.

  “I’d keep very quiet, if I were you,” Earl said. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, and his face had turned an alarming red. “These are your choices. Let me go and give me time to get out of here, and you’ll never hear from me again. If you send anyone after me, I’ll kill them, if I have to—do you want to be responsible for more killing? I don’t think so. Or you could scream, and I’d have to hurt you, and then, so help me, I’d hurt that little girl you’re so fond of.” Rose heard the desperation in his hoarse voice. He was likely to do anything.

  “Earl?” Celia was walking toward them. “Earl, what’s going on?”

  Earl started at the sound of her voice. Rose jumped sideways to escape the knife point aimed toward her stomach. She opened her mouth to scream and warn the others, but Earl was quicker. He lunged at her, grabbed her around the waist and held her in front of him. Rose felt the sharp tip of his pocket knife pricking the skin covering her right kidney.

  Celia screamed and screamed again, as she backed away. The cacophony in the large room hushed to silence, and all eyes turned toward Earl and Rose.

  “What’s all this about?” Gilbert looked more puzzled than frightened.

  “You shouldn’t have brought the girl here,” Earl said. “You should have let her stay lost. Send her over here to me.”

  “Now, Earl, we’ve gone over and over this. The girl’s the only one who can convey the real meaning of these drawings. It’s the only way we can really show the Shakers the truth about—”

  “Gil, I don’t deny that your foggy grasp on reality has been useful to me more than once, just as your cousin’s was, but right now, don’t try to think. Just push the girl over here, and we’ll leave, and the rest of you can go on with your lives.”

  “Nay, you must not!” Rose cried out.

  “Earl?” Celia had regained her composure, now that Matthew stood beside her. “I don’t understand. I thought . . . well, I thought we were going to get married and let Gilbert take care of the village. We were going to build a mansion, that’s what you said after Hugh died. You promised.” Her bright red lips formed a pout that might have been appealing had her voice been less shrill.

  Earl’s gaze skimmed Celia’s body with a mixture of irritation and regret. “That was the plan,” he said. “More or less. It isn’t the first plan I’ve had to change at a moment’s notice.”

  “You killed Hugh!” Celia’s eyes widened until the whites showed all around the intense blue irises. “You killed Hugh so you could marry me and get Hugh’s money, didn’t you?”

  Matthew pulled Celia back behind him.

  “Very brave,” Earl said, with a laugh. “I wish you well with her. I don’t think I could have stood it, even for the money.”

  “Why don’t you get out of here,” Rose said. “You can take one of our horses, or our car, whatever you want. We’ll let you go, I promise you,” she said. “Just leave Mairin with us.”

  “I can’t,” Earl said. “She’s got to go, and so do you.” He pressed the blade harder until Rose felt it break through the thin wool of her dress and touch her skin.

  “You can’t get away,” Rose said. “It’s time to give up.”

  “I have no choice. Don’t you see?” Earl had begun to plead.

  “You do have choices.” Rose forced herself to relax in his grip. “If you kill me and Mairin, it will be cold-blooded. I don’t think you ever wanted to kill anyone, did you? Not Mairin, surely, or you would have done so the day you threatened her in the woods outside the school yard. My guess is you didn’t want to kill Hugh, either.”

  Earl shuddered and almost withdrew his knife, but he recovered before Rose could pull away. “Of course I didn’t want to kill anybody. I’m not a murderer, I’m really not. I just didn’t have a choice. Hugh didn’t give me a choice. He was going to turn me in, ruin my life. I’d have gone to prison anyway, if I’d let him live.”

  “Hugh knew something about you, didn’t he? Something he threatened to reveal? Did it have to do with gambling debts?” Rose guessed.

  “Earl!” Gilbert said. “What’s she saying? Hugh never used to gamble; are you the one who led him into it?”

  Earl made a sound that was somewhere between a snort and a sob. “Hugh? Gamble? Hugh the saint? No, all he ever did was give his money away to the needy. Well, I was needy, too, and the only way I could get any money was to win it. I was good at it, too, until my luck ran out. Hugh was so kind to others, but when I asked him for a loan, he just lectured me on how well off I was, compared to the truly poor. I was thousands of dollars in the hole. I was getting threats. So I offered to hand out his checks for him—he always preferred making the promises, anyway.”

  He scowled at Gilbert. “Hugh was a lot like you in that.”

  “You forged the suicide note and left it for Gilbert to find, didn’t you?” Rose asked. “Was that so he would be a suspect, in case the sheriff suspected a forgery?” She twisted to watch his face.

  Earl didn’t answer, and she knew she’d hit upon the truth.

  “Why didn’t the sheriff suspect?” Rose asked.

  Earl’s eyes flashed as if a circuit in his brain had blown. “If it hadn’t been for you . . .” He jabbed the blade a fraction harder until it broke her skin.

  Rose gasped in pain but held still.

  “No, he’ll kill you! He said so!” Mairin broke away from Gilbert and threw herself toward Earl’s feet. She grabbed his ankles and tried to pull him off balance, but she was far too tiny. He staggered and Rose squirmed out of his grasp. Earl regained his balance, then reached down and grabbed Mairin by her thick, fuzzy hair and yanked her off the ground. She screamed in pain. A roar of fury surged through Rose’s body, and she threw herself at Earl like a crazed lioness. She felt a searing pain in her upper arm, yet her rage was stronger. She hung onto Earl, leaning her weight against him until he started to fall sideways. She heard a child’s scream and then a gunshot, and blacked out with a prayer for forgiveness on her lips.

  TWENTY-SIX

  “THIS TIME IT’S YOUR TURN TO REST IN THE INFIRMARY,” ANDREW said, as Rose drifted to consciousness. Mairin sat on the edge of her bed.

  “Why does my shoulder hurt so much?”

  “Because y
ou were stabbed, remember? You—Shaker eldress, bound by a vow of nonviolence, flung yourself at an armed man, in defense of a sweet little girl. Is any of this sounding familiar?”

  Rose groaned. “I’ll have to confess for the rest of my life for this.”

  Andrew laughed. “Agatha declared that you’ve been punished enough,” he said. “One confession will do the trick.”

  Rose pushed herself up on her good elbow. “Mairin, were you hurt at all?”

  Mairin offered a larger-than-normal smile and shook her head.

  “Mairin is staying in the Children’s Dwelling House,” Andrew said. “Given her treatment at the hands of the New-Owenites, it looks like we can keep her with us.”

  “Thank God.” Rose fell back on her pillow with a grimace of pain.

  “Indeed.”

  “And the New-Owenites themselves?”

  “That’s another story. Did you realize that Earl Weston was killed? Nay, you didn’t kill him,” Andrew said, at Rose’s expression of horror. “You were stabbed in the shoulder, and the pain and loss of blood were too much for you. You blacked out just as Deputy O’Neal burst through the women’s entrance to the Meetinghouse. He thought Earl had killed you, and he shot by instinct. He killed Earl with one bullet.”

  Mairin seemed unmoved by Andrew’s description.

  “How long have I been here?”

  “Just over a day,” Andrew said. “Josie gave you a sedative we’ve been working on in the Medicinal Herb Shop, and it worked better than we’d predicted. Just as well, though. Josie said you missed quite a lot of pain, including the stitching up. I was glad for that. And now you need to rest.”

  “Not until I have answers to all my questions,” Rose said. With the arm that wasn’t taped up at her shoulder, she reached over and took Mairin’s hand. “You were hiding in the barn and you saw what happened to Hugh, didn’t you? All of it?”