Simply Dead

by Eleanor Kuhns

  ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘There are other children besides Jake and Jem?’ Lydia cut herself a piece of bread and buttered it with careful deliberation.

  ‘Oh yes. Six or seven in total. Let’s see. The two oldest girls are married with babes of their own. Jake is the oldest boy. Now. His older brother cut his hand on an axe and died. Then Jem is next. Two more girls after him.’

  ‘What happened to them?’ Lydia asked.

  Now we are getting to it, Rees thought, watching Granny Rose freeze.

  ‘The older one run off, some say to get married.’

  ‘And the youngest girl?’

  ‘She died.’ Granny Rose took in a deep breath. ‘I told you about her. She was with child. No husband of course. That Hortense come up the mountain to deliver the baby.’

  ‘And both mother and baby died?’ Lydia said.

  Granny nodded. ‘It was a mercy really. You see, she were simple. Why, she couldn’t hardly take care of herself. The Woottens kept her close to home.’

  Both Rees and Lydia nodded in understanding. Many families bore children who were touched. It was always a shame the family bore in private.

  ‘And what happened to her older sister?’ Rees asked.

  Granny shrugged. ‘Don’t know. She ain’t around. Can’t really blame her for running away. Couldn’t have been much of a life, could it? Taking care of her mother and her sister.’

  ‘Are you certain the girl and her baby died?’ Lydia asked, following her own train of thought. ‘I mean, did you see the bodies?’

  ‘There was a nice service at the church.’ Granny Rose drew out her reply. ‘Memorial service.’

  ‘Did you see the bodies?’ Lydia persisted.

  Granny blinked. ‘No. The ground was already froze. Couldn’t bury them.’

  ‘What are you thinking?’ Rees asked his wife.

  ‘That perhaps both girls left,’ she said with a shrug.

  ‘But how would they live?’ Granny Rose asked, her voice sharp with skepticism.

  ‘Relatives?’

  ‘I would’ve heard.’ Her certainty brooked no dispute. Lydia hesitated, her gaze fixed blindly over the midwife’s head.

  ‘So, we should find the man the older daughter ran off with,’ she said at last.

  Granny Rose uttered a bark of laughter. ‘Won’t be hard to find him,’ she said. ‘He’s old Morton the shopkeeper.’

  ‘Morton?’ Rees repeated in surprise, recalling the dour fellow he’d met on his first visit to Gray Hill.

  Granny Rose nodded. ‘That’s him.’

  ‘Not exactly a young woman’s dream,’ Rees said.

  The old woman chuckled. ‘No indeed.’ Her smiled faded. ‘Mr Morton was widowed a few years ago. He wanted to marry, no surprise about that, and was sweet on Bathsheba. But her father, didn’t like it.’ She paused and Rees remembered her story.

  ‘That’s when Wootten is reputed to have thrown Morton from the log?’

  ‘Yes. He set up the store after that. Well, it was clear to everyone Morton wouldn’t join a drive down to Falmouth ever again. Anyway, Bathsheba was never allowed out. Too busy taking care of everyone. I suppose she were sent to the store – for sugar and the like – and they started seeing each other on the sly.’

  ‘So, what happened?’ Rees asked. ‘I didn’t see a young woman in the cabin—’

  ‘No. She’s not there. Someone saw her with Morton and told her father and he dragged her back home. Of course she run off again. This time her father couldn’t find her.’ Granny Rose added with a shake of her head, ‘He tore around in the devil’s own temper. I’m glad he didn’t find that child; he was threatening to beat her within an inch of her life. I don’t know that he would’ve but I am certain she would never have gotten out of that cabin again.’

  ‘When was this?’ Lydia asked.

  ‘Fall. I think. No, October. Late October or early November?’

  Lydia and Rees exchanged a glance. ‘She’s probably far away by now,’ he said.

  ‘I would be,’ Lydia agreed.

  ‘I’ll talk to Mr Morton tomorrow,’ he said. ‘See what he knows.’

  ‘Be careful,’ Granny Rose warned. ‘Wootten is on watch for you now.’

  ‘This time you better ask Rouge to accompany you,’ Lydia said. When Rees glanced at her she added sternly, ‘And maybe some deputies. Just in case.’

  ‘She’s right,’ Granny Rose said. ‘Just in case.’

  ‘Very well,’ he promised. It wasn’t that he was frightened of Wootten – not exactly anyway. But his threats were a distraction. Rees could not imagine a reason so strong it would compel him to travel to Gray Hill alone.

  ‘But I wonder …’ Lydia paused, her brows pleated together. ‘If the younger girl was always kept inside, who fathered the baby?’

  Granny Rose shook her head. But Rees, staring at her, sensed the old woman knew something more.

  ‘Who is it?’ he said. ‘You must have heard something.’

  Throwing a quick look at her husband, Lydia added, ‘Gossip maybe?’

  Granny Rose sighed. ‘Some say it was the girl’s own father, Josiah Wootten, that fathered her babe.’ And, seeing Rees and Lydia’s shocked expressions, Granny Rose added, ‘But it may not be true. Josiah ain’t well-liked even on the hill. Some say it was Mr Morton. Likeliest, it was some stranger passing through. I told you it was a mercy the simple girl and her child died.’

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Granny Rose and her mule were already gone by the time Rees limped downstairs for breakfast later that morning. He’d overslept after his late night and dawn pink flushed the sky. The sound of Daisy’s plaintive mooing clearly penetrated the kitchen.

  Rees’s ankle ached and his new boots were still too wet to wear. He dragged out his old worn boots and put them on. One of the soles flapped loosely but, after many years of wear, the leather was soft and stretched and he was able to pull even the left boot on over his sore ankle. Not pausing for breakfast, he limped out to the yard to milk the cow. Then he went back for his musket. He wasn’t sure if it would fire after the journey down the mountain earlier that morning. But he worried that Wootten might still be on the trail and would appear outside the farm.

  Although the sun was rising and it looked as though today would be fair, the air was very cold. The snow that had fallen the day before would not melt away soon. He looked around carefully but did not see anything moving in the woods.

  Usually, after milking Daisy, Rees threw down hay for cow and calf. But he did not dare climb the ladder to the hayloft. Fortunately Lydia had sent down a small hill of hay the previous morning and the cattle hadn’t eaten all of it. Rees tossed some hay into the stalls and, leaving Daisy and her calf to their breakfast, carried the brimming pail of milk inside the house to his own meal.

  He walked into a household drama. Lydia held Sharon’s morning dish of porridge with one hand while she patted Jerusha’s shoulder with the other. Sharon was screaming. Lydia threw Rees a desperate glance. Without pausing a beat, he put down the milk and took the dish from Lydia. He sat Sharon down in a seat and placed the cereal in front of her. She pushed it away. He made a show of blowing on it and poured some of the fresh milk over it. He stirred it and once again pushed the dish at his daughter. She picked up the spoon.

  ‘Apron,’ Lydia said, directing a sharp nod at the child. Rees looked at the little girl. Although she had a spoon in her hand, most of the cereal had dribbled down her chin and onto her dress. Recoiling in disgust, he tied a cloth around her. He knew David had probably gone through this stage but he had been away too often and had never seen it.

  ‘I miss Simon,’ Jerusha sobbed.

  Rees turned to look at his wife. He thought she might scold Jerusha but instead Lydia sighed. ‘I do too,’ she said. ‘We all do.’ She turned a quick glance over her shoulder at Jerusha’s four other siblings. They were playing on the other side of the kitchen. ‘But it was Simon’s decision to remain wit
h David.’

  ‘You should never have allowed him to stay there. Why couldn’t we stay at Zion? Why did we have to come here?’Jerusha lifted her head and Rees saw for the first time the bruising around her left eye.

  ‘Were you in a fight?’ he asked.

  His wife motioned him to silence. ‘That’s not the problem here, is it, Jerusha?’ she asked. And when the girl did not answer, Lydia said again, ‘Is it?’

  Rees realized suddenly that he was missing at least one conversation. What had happened with his daughter?

  ‘We’ll be leaving for school shortly,’ Lydia said. Although she looked at her husband, he guessed her comment was actually meant for Jerusha.

  ‘You’re mean to me,’ the girl wept. ‘My real mother wouldn’t have been so cruel.’ Turning, she fled into the front room, her feet stamping a rhythm to her sobs. Lydia closed her eyes briefly and exhaled.

  ‘I’ll speak to her,’ Rees said, rising to his feet.

  ‘No, don’t. Please.’ Lydia turned to him and forced a smile. ‘She misses Simon.’

  ‘And what happened to her eye?’ he asked.

  ‘There was some problem at school. I don’t know all the details.’ She paused and then added very quietly, ‘Jerusha is in danger of being expelled.’

  ‘What?’ Although he’d had reservations about Jerusha’s attendance, hearing that she might be expelled inspired an entirely different emotion in him. Now he was prepared to fight for her right to remain in school.

  ‘This morning Jerusha and I are meeting with the mother of that girl Jerusha has been spatting with, as well as with the Widow Francine,’ Lydia said.

  ‘I’ll drive you to school,’ he said, wishing this girlish storm had not come to a head just now.

  Lydia nodded. ‘I’ll walk back home with Joseph and Sharon.’ She directed a weary smile at her husband. ‘It is not a far distance. You can go on into town. I know you want to meet with Constable Rouge.’

  ‘I don’t want to go to school,’ Jerusha said from the door of the front hall. ‘No one likes me. Why can’t I go back to the school in Zion?’

  Rees thought of the murdered Sister and shook his head. ‘It isn’t safe there now,’ he said. Watching Jerusha’s face fall, he added, ‘Maybe in the spring.’ Lydia shook her head at him but did not contradict him.

  ‘Help your brothers and sisters dress, please,’ she told Jerusha.

  Rees ate a square of yesterday’s bread and gulped down the dregs of his lukewarm coffee before hurrying to the barn to hitch Hannibal to the wagon. Although the air was cold, even in the barn, he enjoyed the quiet and the calm.

  Climbing up into the driver’s seat felt like greeting an old friend. Rees’s thighs still ached from the previous day’s adventures so he was not sure he could ride astride even if he owned a saddle horse. He was also able to rest his sore ankle on the front board. All of the children scrambled into the back.

  Driving to the school took almost as long as walking – because the wagon couldn’t cut through the woods. Besides, even though it had not snowed as hard here as it had on Gray Hill, the snow on the road was deeper by several inches; not quite deep enough for a sleigh but enough to slow down a wagon.

  When he pulled up to the dame school he saw a buggy with red-painted wheels there already. Lydia climbed down. As she and Jerusha went up the steps to the main door, Rees gathered the other children and brought them to the small room the widow used as her school. The door separating the schoolroom from the rest of the house stood open and through it he could see his wife and another woman nodding stiffly at one another. He glanced back at his other children. While Joseph and Sharon ran around and around the benches, Nancy and Judah played quietly some game involving Nancy’s doll and Judah’s horse. Since all of them were occupied he ambled down the hall to the small sitting room beyond.

  The other mother had dressed in her best for this occasion. With the removal of her gray cloak, a dress of pale green was revealed. She wore white gloves as well and Rees understood this mother had aspirations of gentility. But, although she might employ several women as help, her cheeks bore a light brown color from days spent outdoors, so Rees knew she was still required to work outside. The school fees were probably a struggle. A flaxen-haired girl, a few years older than Jerusha if Rees was any judge, stood beside the woman. That must be Jerusha’s enemy, Babette.

  ‘Please sit down, ladies,’ Widow Francine said with a desperate smile. ‘May I offer you tea? Or coffee?’

  ‘No, thank you,’ Lydia said politely.

  ‘This is not a social call,’ the other mother said with a nasty snap to her voice.

  The widow, hands fluttering anxiously, circled the two other women like someone trying to work up the courage to separate two fighting dogs.

  ‘Your daughter struck my Babette,’ said the aggrieved mother, staring at Lydia accusingly.

  ‘As did yours strike mine,’ Lydia said, turning Jerusha so that the light fell upon her bruised eye.

  ‘That was her brother, trying to protect his sister,’ said Babette’s mother. ‘After your daughter slapped mine. Several times each week this past few months,’ she added with a sniff.

  From the shelter of the shadowed hall, Rees examined Babette. She had her hands folded and was looking down, striving hard to appear innocent. But the glance she shot at Jerusha was full of malicious glee.

  Jerusha was staring at the floor as well but her face was contorted with the effort of holding back her tears.

  ‘My daughter tells me your daughter says mean things to her and pinches and slaps her when no one is looking,’ Lydia said in a low controlled voice.

  Rees wondered why his wife was not defending Jerusha more strongly.

  ‘Well then, she is a liar,’ said Babette’s mother. ‘My Babette would never ever be cruel to another. She is a sweet girl. A proper feminine girl, not a hoyden like your daughter who will run around throwing a ball with the boys.’ She smoothed her skirts over her pregnant belly.

  Two spots of color flamed into existence on Lydia’s cheeks and she took in a deep breath. Rees could see her clenched hands. But she brought her anger under control. ‘I’m told the girls will not play with her. Under the instruction of their leader.’ She flicked a glance at Babette.

  ‘Then you must look to the behavior of your own daughter,’ Babette’s mother said in a sharp voice. ‘She is a hoydenish unfeminine girl.’

  ‘Ladies, ladies,’ said the widow in a wispy voice. ‘I’m certain that, excepting this unfortunate quarrel, both girls are lovely, well-brought-up children.’ Under the combined stares of both mothers she wilted into silence.

  Babette stuck her tongue out at Jerusha and mouthed, ‘Teacher’s pet.’

  Rees, furious on behalf of Jerusha, and seeing moreover that if he left this discussion to his wife they would be here another hour and more, walked to the end of the short hall.

  ‘I daresay Babette was the favorite, the best pupil and the one chosen for all the desired tasks,’ he said. Babette’s mother jumped and everyone turned to stare. Rees bowed his head when he stepped through the doorway. He was so tall his head almost touched the ceiling. With him inside, the sitting room seemed to shrink and become both tiny and cramped. In this feminized atmosphere, his masculinity was both strange and intimidating. The widow sat down in her rocking chair and began fanning herself.

  ‘Of course she was,’ Babette’s mother said, lifting her chin. ‘And why shouldn’t she be? She is sweet, well-behaved and clever.’

  ‘What are you …?’ Lydia, staring at her husband in annoyance, stopped and bit her lip.

  ‘Babette didn’t like the competition with someone cleverer, I suppose.’ He turned his gaze upon the girl. She shot a glance at him and he saw the anger and defiance sparkling in her eyes. Then she looked down at her clasped hands, the expression of sweet-natured compliance that she used with adults sliding down to mask her true feelings.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said
in a soft voice.

  Rees would almost have believed it if he had not already seen her anger. He looked at the widow. ‘Why are we here?’ he asked. ‘I am certain you do not usually call in the parents for a childish quarrel.’

  ‘Well, she—’ and the widow’s eyes darted to Babette’s mother – ‘asked for a meeting. She was disturbed—’

  ‘By the tales of physical altercations and other improper behavior,’ Babette’s mother interjected.

  ‘It sounds like Babette already has support,’ Rees said, reaching out to turn Jerusha’s face so that the bruised eye was again clearly visible in the light. ‘Babette’s brother did this?’

  ‘But she was hitting me. And she tore my dress,’ Babette said.

  Rees nodded, now understanding why Jerusha kept wishing Simon was here. ‘And how old is your brother?’

  ‘He’s fourteen,’ Babette’s mother said. ‘But I don’t see what that has to do with it.’

  ‘I see,’ Rees said. ‘Your daughter, who is older than Jerusha, and her fourteen-year-old brother have joined forces to attack my daughter. So, not only bullying but cowardice as well.’ Babette’s mother’s mouth opened but no words came out. ‘I will make it my business to drive my children to school and pick them up every day,’ he continued ‘And I’d better not see your son striking Jerusha. Otherwise he will have me to deal with.’ He met the woman’s hazel eyes and held her gaze for a long few seconds.

  When he turned to look at Lydia she frowned but she did not say anything to him. Instead she turned to Jerusha. ‘Will you be all right today? Until your father comes to fetch you?’ She nodded. But Rees did not like the way she stared at the floor, the picture of unhappiness.

  Lydia collected Joseph and Sharon from the classroom and joined Rees outside. ‘I wish we could send her to the Shakers,’ he said, ‘but I don’t dare, not with a murderer targeting the Sisters.’

  ‘Why didn’t you let me handle this,’ Lydia said.

  ‘What?’ Rees said, looking at her in surprise. ‘It was taking too long.’

  ‘Because Babette will be even crueler to Jerusha now,’ she said. ‘And Babette will take more care to hide her bullying so that every time Jerusha reacts to the torment she will get the blame.’