“STOP THAT INSTANTLY!” ROSE SHOUTED, AS SHE RAN INTO Dulcie’s room and saw Honora aim a hypodermic needle at the girl’s arm. “Drop it on the floor. Now!”
Honora stared over her shoulder at Rose, needle suspended in mid-air. “I was just—”
“Don’t argue, just drop that needle.”
“But it’s the only one I have, and Dulcie is in terrible pain. I just wanted to ease her pain.” Honora straightened and spread her arms in a gesture of innocence, still holding the needle. “It’s a sedative. You see, I brought my little kit with me. I’ve had it since the war.” She pointed to a small cracked-leather satchel, lying open on the seat of a chair.
Rose reached up and slipped the needle out of Honora’s hand. Honora didn’t fight. “Dulcie is in pain,” she repeated.
Dulcie did look as if a sedative might be helpful. Her eyes were closed, but she was thrashing about so much she was throwing herself against the sides of her jerking cradle bed. Rose handed the needle to Abigail and signaled both her and Honora to back away. She placed a cool hand on the girl’s forehead. Dulcie’s eyes shot open.
“Dulcie, can you hear me?”
The girl stared at her with a puzzled frown, which suddenly relaxed into a rapturous smile. “You are an angel. I’m in Heaven. God has been merciful with me and brought me to Heaven.”
“Nay, Dulcie, I am not an angel, and this is not Heaven.”
“Hell? I’ve been sent to Hell?” Dulcie’s voice squeaked with panic. She tried to sit up and cried out in pain. Rose gently held her down.
“Lie still, Dulcie. You are badly injured. I’m Rose, don’t you remember me? I am your friend. You’ve told me about your troubles, and I’ve tried to help you.”
Dulcie seemed to crumble inward. “Rose,” she said. “You are a Shaker.”
“Do you know where you are now?”
“I’m still in Hancock Village, aren’t I?” Her voice was thick with grief. “I’m still here, on earth.” She grabbed Rose’s wrist and pulled her down. “My baby—my baby is dead, isn’t it?” she asked in a whisper.
“I’m so sorry,” Rose said. “The child did not survive.”
Dulcie released Rose’s wrist and began to whisper frenetically. Rose leaned close to the girl’s face to hear better.
“No, no, no,” Dulcie cried. “He took my baby and left me. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be here.”
“I know you grieve the loss of your child,” Rose whispered, “but you are alive, and that is a reason to rejoice.”
Dulcie shook her head.
“You need to rest,” Rose said, “but could you just try to answer one question for me? Can you remember the accident?”
“Accident?”
“Yea, when you fell in the Round Stone Barn. Can you remember what happened? What I mean is, did you slip or did someone push you? It’s terribly important that I know if someone pushed you, and who it was. Can you try to think back and remember?”
Dulcie’s eyes filled with tears of unbearable sadness. With a surge of strength, she pushed Rose away and tried to sit up. The cradle bed rocked so sharply it nearly tipped over as Dulcie struggled to free herself from her blankets.
“Abigail, Honora, help me,” Rose shouted over her shoulder. The three women gently pushed Dulcie back into the cradle and held her while she squirmed. As suddenly as it had begun, the fit ended, and Dulcie’s body went limp. Slowly, the women released their grip. Dulcie turned on her side and curled up like a baby, hiding her face with her arms as if she expected to be disciplined with a rod.
“A sedative might be a good idea,” Abigail suggested. “We’ve got something we use for pain, and it will put her to sleep, as well. Just let me. . . .” She pulled open several drawers built into the wall and rummaged around until she found a bottle. “Ah, this is it.”
“Are you sure it’s safe?” Rose asked. She wished more than ever that Josie were there.
“Oh, of course,” Abigail said. “I take it myself when I have one of my headaches. And it’s certainly safer than a hypodermic full of something that might be more than twenty years old,” she whispered to Rose.
“Here, dear, swallow one of these and you’ll feel better.” Abigail helped Dulcie prop herself up on one elbow and handed her a glass of water with the pill. Without resisting, Dulcie swallowed the pill and lay back down. “We’ll let you rest now, won’t we, Rose?”
Outside in the hallway, Abigail said, “Why don’t you two get away for a while. I’ll be glad to watch Dulcie.”
“My sedative would have worked just as well,” Honora said
“Yes, dear, now why don’t you go on and take a nap? You’ve been working so hard, and I can see how tired you are.”
“I have been working hard.”
“You, too, Rose. I know you have tasks to manage.”
With Honora out of the way for a while, Rose gratefully left Dulcie in Abigail’s care. She did indeed have tasks, and very little time to accomplish them. With Dulcie awake, sooner or later she would reveal what happened to her in the barn, and someone was likely to be very nervous about what she might say. Rose intended to push the issue. It was risky, but she had to act quickly. She needed to be sure that Dulcie was safe. She would relieve Gennie of her dreaded kitchen work and send her to Dulcie’s room, with strict instructions to let no one else in. If necessary, they could barricade the door. It was the best she could do. She only hoped it was enough.
“Rose, I promise I would never hurt Dulcie—or Julia. Why won’t anyone believe me?” Sewell looked and sounded like a wounded little boy. The effect was enhanced by the setting. They stood almost knee-deep in snow on the north side of the Meetinghouse, where Rose had found Sewell poking at areas of rotted wood with a screwdriver. The snowfall hadn’t paused since morning, and Sewell was so caked with it that he looked as if he’d been rolling around making snow angels.
“Still, I believe someone pushed Dulcie and that it was the same person who killed Julia,” Rose said, nervously eyeing the screwdriver in Sewell’s hand.
“But why? It doesn’t make sense. Julia—well, I admit Julia could be a tease, and she always went after the wrong man. I told her so all the time, but she wouldn’t listen. I guess someone might be angry enough with her to kill her. But Dulcie? Dulcie is so gentle.”
“Maybe Dulcie guessed who killed her sister.”
“She would have told me.”
“Maybe she thought it was you.”
Sewell’s bony face turned nearly as white as the snow. His eyes bulged and his mouth hung open so that he looked like an emaciated fish in a frozen sea. Rose pushed ahead.
“Sewell,” she asked, “do you believe in the cleansing of confession?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then I want you to confess to me now.”
“What do you mean?”
“I want you to confess to me the terrible secret that you carry in your heart. I have watched my sisters and listened to their confessions long enough to know when someone’s soul is tortured. Tell me.”
“I had nothing to do with Julia’s death or Dulcie’s . . . accident. I promise you by all that is holy to me. I try so hard to be good. I’m a Shaker, or I will be as soon as I am allowed to sign the Covenant.”
“You must confess all your sins to become fully a Believer. And if those sins have nothing to do with these recent tragedies, then I promise to keep your confession a secret. You will have cleansed your soul, and unless you repeat those sins, no one here need know about them. I can offer you that.”
Sewell sighed with deep weariness and leaned against the Meetinghouse. “To have a cleansed soul . . .” he said, closing his eyes. Rose waited in silence, praying he would make the right choice. He opened his eyes and straightened. “May I have time to think about it?”
“There isn’t much time.”
“Just a few hours. I will let you know soon. I promise.”
“All right,” Rose said, with reluctance. “Soon.”
The Brethren’s Workshop was the next stop on Rose’s list. Both Aldon and Johnny were working upstairs, putting the finishing touches on the last batch of boxes being made especially for the celebration. Privacy was impossible, so she would be forced to confront them together. Perhaps that might work in her favor. Rose could hear raised voices as she climbed the stairs to the second floor. Aldon and Johnny were already battling, even without Rose’s instigation. They quieted at once when they saw her.
“I have come with news and with several important questions. I need quick and honest answers.” She noticed that the men watched her guardedly, but they did not exchange glances. “I must tell both of you that Dulcie has regained consciousness and is able to speak, though she has yet to make much sense. I’m sure she will, in time. If someone pushed her in the Round Stone Barn, the truth will come to light. And although she has survived, there has been another murder. Dulcie was expecting a child, who died as a result of her fall. Was either of you aware of that?”
Throughout her speech, Rose had watched their faces, but neither had shown more than the slightest of reactions—whether shock or fear or regret, she could not tell. These were men whose passions were well hidden.
“I had no idea,” Johnny said. “Not that I paid much attention to the women.”
“Theodore has much to answer for,” Aldon said.
“Perhaps,” Johnny said, without looking at Aldon. “I wonder, though. Theodore made much of his uprightness. He bragged to me one day that he wouldn’t even kiss Dulcie on the mouth, nothing at all until after they were married. He insisted they wouldn’t even be together after they were married, not until they could afford to have a child. He was quite proud of himself for his determination.”
“A man can say anything he wishes,” Aldon said. “He is judged by his deeds, which may be performed in secret.”
“Well said, my brother.” Johnny’s response was edged with sarcasm.
“Which brings me to my questions,” Rose said. “If Theodore was not the father of Dulcie’s child, who was?” She gazed expectantly at the men.
“I’d say it’s obvious,” Johnny said. “Sewell. He has never been able to stay away from the women, and becoming a Shaker novitiate doesn’t seem to have helped him control himself.”
“Do you have proof of your accusation?”
“If I had actually caught him falling into the flesh, I would naturally have told the eldress. But he certainly seems compelled to flirt with every woman around.”
“He is friendly,” Aldon said to Johnny. “Almost childlike in his innocence. Something you could learn from. He certainly does not possess your greed.”
“How dare you—”
“That’s enough,” Rose said sternly. “Johnny, I’m afraid I must ask you—why have you spent so much time in the attics and unused retiring rooms? You’ve been seen, at least once in the dead of night.”
“Who is telling these lies about me?” Johnny jumped to his feet and stepped an inch too close to Rose. She felt the menace of his muscular body.
“Take care, Johnny,” Aldon said, “or soon everyone will know you for who you are. They aren’t lies, and you know it. You’ve been taking inventory of everything in the village.”
“So what? Someone has to do it.”
“In secret, in the middle of the night? I think not. I have seen for some time that your purpose in joining the Society comes from the world and the devil. You are worse than a bread-and-butter Shaker, because you want so much more than food and shelter. You want everything. You perceive wealth around you, and you want it for yourself. That is why you spread tales about the others, especially the men. You hope we will all be denied the right to sign the Covenant, and you will be the only young man left in the village. Then it will all be yours, or so you think. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if you were the father of Dulcie’s child—if you sinned with both her and her sister—and you decided to get rid of them when they wanted a share of the wealth.”
Johnny’s fair complexion flushed a deep red and his hands tightened into fists. Rose wondered if she would have to throw herself between the men to prevent violence. Then Johnny stretched out his fingers as if forcing himself to relax. “You have good reason to lie,” he said, his expression calculating. “You are the one with secrets. Poor Sewell, I’ve seen you pretend to be a friend to him, and then you turn around and say how weak he is, how lacking in faith. It suits your purposes, doesn’t it, that everyone sees Sewell as the carnal one. But it’s really you, isn’t it?” Johnny’s voice had dipped dangerously low.
The air crackled with rage, and Rose’s mind raced. If she calmed them down—as indeed she should—she might learn no more. If she allowed the anger to escalate, she might be responsible for violence. She took a grave chance.
“Aldon,” she said, “I had a recent chat with a Pittsfield police officer named Billy about your activities in your former church. Why don’t you tell me your side of the story?”
She expected fury, denials, almost anything but what happened next. Johnny looked puzzled but intrigued. Aldon moved not a muscle. His dark eyes burned through her as his lips curved into a smile. “I don’t have to do any such thing,” he said. “Billy told you nothing. And now, I have work to do. This conversation is over.”
Both Rose and Johnny gaped at him as he picked up an oval box and began to sand the rough edge of a swallowtail joint. Doubts flooded Rose’s mind. How could Aldon have known she was bluffing? Did he know there was nothing to tell? Did Billy have his own reasons for insinuating what he did? She was certain of only one thing—that Aldon would not say another word to her, perhaps ever.
The snow showed no inclination to stop or even to taper off. Rose had given up keeping herself dry below the knees as she plodded toward the Barn Complex, where she hoped to complete her questioning of the men. Then she could change into dry clothes and talk with the women, who were all in the Brick Dwelling House. The thought of dry, warm feet kept her moving toward what was likely to be another trying interview, this time with Theodore Geist. Perhaps Otis, too, though she had yet to find a compelling reason why he might have killed Julia and injured Dulcie. It would surprise her greatly if he proved to be the father of Dulcie’s child. She still favored Theodore. Aldon was right that words are easy to utter, and they prove nothing about the purity of one’s actions.
“What brings you out in this weather?” Otis asked, favoring her with an amused grin as she dripped clumps of snow on the floor. Theodore and Otis had returned to their pre-spring task of cleaning, oiling, and repairing the farm implements. “I’d sure stay warm and dry, if I had the choice.”
Theodore glowered at Otis and then at Rose before returning to his work. He was chipping hardened dirt from the tines of a hay rake, a job that seemed to absorb his attention far more than was reasonable.
“I don’t intend to stay out any longer than I must,” Rose said. “I have some questions for both of you.”
“More questions?” Theodore rolled his eyes as if to imply that a smarter woman would have solved Julia’s murder and gone home by now. Rose ignored him.
“Had you heard yet that Dulcie is awake and able to talk?”
“Why, that’s wonderful news,” Otis said. “She’ll be all right then?”
“It looks hopeful.”
“You must be so relieved that your fiancée will recover,” she said to Theodore. He nodded. His face was unreadable, but at least she’d gotten his attention. “I am so sorry that the child did not survive.”
Otis’s eyebrows shot up nearly to his hairline. “Child? Theodore, you old rascal. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Shut up, you fool. It wasn’t mine.”
“So that’s why Dulcie wore those big old Shaker dresses—to hide her condition. Theodore, I’m sorry about the babe, I really am, but you two were getting hitched anyway, so what’s the difference? Why didn’t you just marry her? She’s a sweet girl, she’ll make a good wife for you.”
Theodore’s knuckles whitened as he squeezed the handle of the hay rake. With a furious growl, he flung the rake through the air. Both Rose and Otis hunched over instinctively, though the rake hadn’t come near either of them.
“It was not my baby!”
“Well, whose then?” Otis was asking just the right questions, so Rose listened.
“She wouldn’t tell me, the little—”
“She probably figured you’d kill the guy,” Otis said.
“Damn right I would have. And her, too, if I’d caught them together.”
“She didn’t want you in prison. You can hardly blame her for that.” Otis seemed to be enjoying himself.
“Why, because she’s so sweet and good?” Theodore laughed without mirth. “I used to think so, too. A lot we knew. She’s a whore. I brought her to work here to keep her pure for our marriage—to get her away from her tramp of a sister. But Julia showed up working in the store and brought her whorish ways with her.”
Otis laughed. “Well, Julia sure was Julia. She went after anything in pants, and it was more fun for her if he was married or celibate.”
“She went after me,” Theodore said, “but I stayed true to my future wife, and how did she repay me?”
“Did it occur to you that Dulcie might have been forced?” Rose asked.
“She wasn’t. She admitted it, right to my face. Wanted to be honest with me, she said, so we could start our marriage without secrets. Hah! As if I’d marry her after what she’d done. I told her the engagement was off, and she could go crying to her lover. I’m not fool enough to take on a whore with a bastard.”
“Theodore, it is vital that I know who was the father of Dulcie’s baby. If you have even a suspicion, please tell me.”
“If I knew, he’d be dead by now.” He stalked past her and left the barn without stopping to pick up his coat.
Fearing he might be angry enough to hurt Dulcie, Rose turned to follow.
“Sister,” Otis called after her. “Could you wait a minute?”
Rose turned but stayed where she was, ready to leave quickly.
“It’s just that . . . Well, there’s something I wanted to tell you. It might not help, but I can’t get it out of my mind.”
Rose nodded to encourage him.
“I didn’t say this in front of Theodore because Lord knows what he’d do. I mean, I don’t mind teasing him a bit, but it ain’t smart to rile him too much, if you know what I mean.”
“Are you trying to say that you think he might be the killer, because of his temper?”
“No, no, not at all. He does have a temper and a half, that’s a fact, but I believe him when he says he doesn’t know who the father is. Not just ’cause he doesn’t lie worth a damn, either. Sorry, Sister.”
“I’m in a bit of a hurry,” Rose said.
“Yeah, I’m rambling, I know, it’s just hard to explain, that’s all. I’ve been thinking it’s not so unbelievable that Dulcie cheated on Theodore. She really is sweet, and she tries to be good, but . . . I watched those girls grow up, Julia and Dulcie. They had a rough life.”
“I know that.” Rose thought of just walking away, but something kept her listening.
“Julia, she grew up real tough, and she went after what she wanted. But Dulcie was different. I was a little sweet on Dulcie, I guess, so I kept an eye on her. Because of Julia’s reputation, lots of men thought they could get the same from Dulcie, and mostly she stayed good, but there was this certain type of man could get to her.”
“What type?”
“Well, really all they had to do was treat her gentle, at first, anyway, and maybe seem like they could take care of her real good—you know, someone who seemed real strong. If you’re looking for the father of her baby, it’d probably be a man like that.”
“Do you mean someone like Theodore?”
“Well, yeah, I guess.” Otis’s face crinkled in confusion. He shrugged and grabbed an oily rag, as if he’d done his best and that’s all he could do. Rose wasn’t sure she understood everything he had said, but she was inclined to believe his notion that Dulcie might indeed have strayed. However, it only meant she was right to believe Dulcie was still in danger.