A Simple Shaker Murder Read Online Free Page B

sheriff is not a supporter of ours, but he is not an unreasonable man. And certainly not stupid.”
    Wilhelm snorted. “Thy faith would be better placed in Mother Ann.”
    â€œMy faith is in Mother Ann, and in the Father and Holy Mother Wisdom, and I’m sure they will be with us, as they always have before.”
    â€œSo it is thy belief we should put ourselves in the hands of the Sheriff?”
    â€œFor the time being,” Rose said. “All evidence so far points to suicide, and the Sheriff did not deny that.” She did not add that Brock seemed open to, even eager for, any evidence to the contrary.
    â€œWas there a note? It is my experience that suicides compound the cowardice of their crime by requesting forgiveness beforehand, as if wanting God to give them permission to sin.”
    â€œNay, there was no note found near the . . . near Hugh.” Rose worried that Brock might pursue the murder notion out of spite that all apparent sources of evidence had been tampered with, but she kept that concern to herself.
    â€œI haven’t time to waste; there is work to be done,” Wilhelm said. “We shall have a worship service following the evening meal. We must make sure our visitors attend.”
    â€œWilhelm, you know the New-Owenites are not in tune with our faith. Why don’t we just—”
    Wilhelm’s blue eyes hardened. “It seems the fire in thy heart is dying out. I fear what we have come to, with such a worldly eldress as thee. There is clearly a sickness of the soul among these visitors of ours. If we can turn even one of them from his carnal life, we will have served. See that the women attend this evening. I will see to the men.” Wilhelm settled his flat-brimmed work hat on his head and strode toward the barn.
    Rather than tackle the task of convincing the New-Owenites—who were opposed to any form of organized religion—toattend evening worship, Rose gave in to her curiosity and concern about the quiet waif, Mairin. It was nearly time for the noon meal; Charlotte and the children should be back from their hunt for black walnuts. Though it was Tuesday, the morning’s lessons had been canceled due to Hugh’s death. The children would not need to return to the Schoolhouse until the afternoon, so now they might be doing chores in the Children’s Dwelling House.
    Despite the tragedy she had so recently witnessed, Rose’s spirits lifted as the sun edged away from its cloud covering and warmed her shoulders. She untied her long cloak to let the breeze billow the wool away from her skin. Avoiding the dusty, unpaved central road, she walked through the bluegrass, now brown and layered with fallen sour gum leaves, their intense reds fading to rust.
    As she passed the open door of the Sisters’ Shop, a strong, insistent voice reached her. It sounded familiar. She paused and listened. She couldn’t make out the words, but the tone sounded persuasive. She walked closer until she recognized the harsh voice of Celia Griffiths. It surprised her that Celia would bother to visit the Sisters’ Shop so soon after her husband’s death, let alone talk earnestly with the sisters—who, presumably, were working hard at their dyeing, weaving, and sewing.
    Rose began to feel self-conscious. She knew that Wilhelm had given Celia, and the other visitors, permission to roam the village freely and learn what they could from the Shakers, so their own utopian experiment might avert the chaotic demise of the original Owenite colony. But what she was hearing in the Sisters’ Shop sounded more like teaching than learning. If Rose interceded now, Celia would probably stop immediately, but Rose was curious to know what was going on. She moved on quickly toward the Children’s Dwelling House, promising herself that later she would chat with Sister Isabel, who should be weaving in the Sisters’ Shop. She could count on Isabel to