A Simple Shaker Murder (29 page)

Shadows crossed the west window, and she looked up to see figures moving, alone and in groups, toward the Meetinghouse. She had no more time. All she could do was stay alert, hope for the best, and beg Holy Mother Wisdom to send her angels to watch over the girls and keep them from wandering into danger.

R
OSE
'
S FOREBODING DEEPENED AS SHE OPENED THE WOMEN
'
S
door to the Meetinghouse. Her first impression was that she'd stumbled on a three-ring circus, like the one she'd sneaked a peek at as a child, when Agatha had taken her along on a trip to Languor. Wilhelm stood, a grim statue, in the center of the high-ceilinged meeting room. On one side, the sisters sat in an attempt at prayerful silence, while their eyes darted around the room. On Wilhelm's other side, several of the chairs were empty, and the remaining brethren scowled at the pine floor as if its smooth surface offended them.

Behind the brethren's seats, a group of men huddled in a circle, whispering to one another. Rose recognized four of them, including Matthew and Archibald, in their dark blue Sabbathday surcoats. The other two men were New-Owenites, dressed in their usual baggy brown trousers and shirts. Hands waved and heads nodded, as if they were negotiating a plan.

The third ring clustered at the far end of the room, across from where Wilhelm stood. The group included Gilbert, Earl, Celia, and the other New-Owenite women. Unlike the others, Celia's outfit was both elegant and odd. She was covered in black, from her ebony hair to her shiny dancing slippers. A black lace shawl barely disguised the sleek fit of her satin gown. She gazed around the room as if scouting out dance partners.

Rose wished she'd eaten something. This promised to be an
exhausting evening. Thank goodness they had decided not to open the service to the public—and that Mairin was safely hidden away. She chose a seat on the end of the back bench on the sisters' side, so she could observe everyone. Frustration was gnawing at her; she longed to do something active to control the mounting tensions, but she could think of nothing. With her eyes open, she prayed inwardly for guidance and inspiration.

Wilhelm straightened, closed his eyes, and raised his arms to call for quiet. The seated Believers were already silent, and they remained so. The other two groups ignored him. Wilhelm, in turn, ignored their rudeness and motioned to three sisters and two brethren to stand at his side and sing a welcoming hymn. The noise level increased, and Rose was able to recognize only a few words. There'd be no dancing if this kept up.

Wilhelm nodded to the confused singers to begin another hymn. Despite the chill outside, the large room had begun to feel stuffy, as if the world had crowded inside with them. Wilhelm's powerful baritone strengthened the singing, while Matthew's group seemed to be whipping themselves into an angry lather. The New-Owenites laughed and chattered as if they were at a ball, giddy with champagne.

Rose shrank in her seat to escape the cacophony. She wondered if the Meetinghouse walls were thick enough to withstand the insult. Spending the evening hiding in a hayloft was beginning to sound appealing. She considered slipping out and leaving everyone else to fight it out—but nay, she couldn't leave the other sisters. She could sense their confusion and fear. None of this was their doing, and they needed her presence, even if she could not provide protection.

A deep roar rose above the din. “Silence! Silence, now!” The shout erupted from Wilhelm like the blast of a train whistle. It startled everyone speechless just long enough for Wilhelm to claim the room's attention. He wasted no time, and for once Rose was grateful.

“We all agreed to gather together in this place of worship.
Believers,” he said, with a stern look at Matthew's group, “this is not a town square, it is a sacred place for thee. Mother Ann is with us here, and be assured that her heart is breaking to see us behave like squabbling children.”

Matthew stared at the floor with a sullen frown, but he remained quiet. Archibald and the other brethren looked abashed. The two New-Owenite men with them, though they said nothing, watched Gilbert across the room, awaiting instruction.

Gilbert watched Wilhelm. “I have a suggestion,” Gilbert said, in a conversational tone. “It's obvious that we all have important issues to discuss. Let's take turns, shall we? That's fair.”

‘This is a place of worship,” Wilhelm repeated. His voice rumbled like thunder building in the electric air.

“For you,” Gilbert said. “Not for us. And you might find that the place has become less than sacred for some of your own folks. However, we do acknowledge that this is your building, and we've never really stopped to observe your . . . ritual. So I suggest that you folks take the first turn. Show us why this worship business holds such power for you.” The New-Owenites pulled an empty bench away from the wall and sat down, polite interest on their faces. Celia whispered something in Earl's ear, and they both smiled.

Rose felt as if her heart were pumping lead. The worship service was turning into a debate by performance. She couldn't believe such a scene would unfold in their Meetinghouse. Surely Wilhelm now recognized the foolishness of his plans. The angels must indeed be crying their eyes out.

If Wilhelm understood his error, he showed no sign of it. With a forceful nod, he indicated to the anxious Believers that it was time for dancing worship. The Shakers pushed their benches back to open the floor for dancing. Rose made the choice to stand with her sisters. They formed a line facing the small number of brethren across the center of the room.

But before the chorus could sing a note, a querulous male voice shouted, “Nay!” The command had come from the group
standing in back of the brethren's seats. Scraping sounds followed, and Matthew's head appeared above the brethren. He'd climbed on a bench, shocking enough in itself, but then he deepened his impropriety by stripping off his surcoat and flinging it on the floor. The Believers fumbled back to their benches and huddled close together.

“This time we aren't waiting,” Matthew said. “You all have kept us quiet long enough, and now we're going to have our say.” Murmurs of support came from the men around him.

“By all means,” Gilbert said, before Wilhelm could bellow an order for silence, “speak your piece. Wilhelm and I are patient enough to wait.” He smiled across at Wilhelm, who said nothing.
How could he?
Rose thought.
He has been out-maneuvered
. She had no doubt that Gilbert had always intended for Matthew's complaints to come first.

“You all think you've got a heaven on earth here,” Matthew said, “but this ain't heaven for us.” The others agreed with growing assertiveness. “You think it's heaven to work all day and into the night, without pay, without even a nickel saved up? This village is dying. In a year or two, this'll be a ghost town, and we'll all be out on the streets with nothing—no jobs, no money, no family to take care of us.”

Wilhelm's ruddy features were contorting in fury. “Foolish sinner,” he shouted, “Mother Ann will always—”

“Nay, Wilhelm, you listen to me! Mother Ann is watching us die, and she isn't lifting a finger to help. And you know why? Because Mother Ann is
dead
, that's why. Dead and buried and rotted away long ago.”

The sisters around Rose gasped and whispered to one another. Matthew turned on them.

“You're shocked, are you? Well, maybe you should have thought of this yourselves. Most of you are old. What's going to happen to you when North Homage collapses? You pinned all your hopes on your Mother Ann, and now you don't have husbands or children or grandchildren. You're like our sheep; you went along with the Ministry telling you how to live, it
never entered your minds you should have had a say in how they got to be the Ministry.”

Using a gesture copied from Wilhelm's more fervent homilies, Matthew thrust his arm straight up, his index finger pointing to the heavens. “There ain't no Holy Mother Wisdom up there, smiling down on you. You're on your own. We all are. All we got is our brains and our strength. As I see it, we got one chance to come out of this alive. We join whatever strength we have left with these folks here.” He pointed toward Gilbert, who listened with a benign air. “We don't have to become just like them. We own the buildings and the business and the know-how, and they got the people. If we put our heads together, we can make it through this Depression, and come out the other end in one piece. That's all I got to say.”

He jumped off the bench to applause from his own comrades and the New-Owenites led by Gilbert.

Wilhelm's stone-faced silence disturbed Rose more than an eruption of fury would have. She knew that look. He wasn't worried. He had a plan.

He nodded toward the five-voice chorus, and they took their places again. With reluctance, Rose again led the sisters to form a row facing the brethren. At Wilhelm's cue, the singers began a shaky a cappella tune that Rose had never heard before. Apparently, neither had anyone else, because the worshipers stood still. Even the singers wavered, and Wilhelm joined in to bring them back to the pitch.

The lyrics spoke of the beauty of the heavens and described the flowers and foods and sheer joy that Believers would encounter, once they had completed their life of chastity and hard work. The sweet, simple tune intrigued Rose—for about ten seconds, until she tumbled to what was happening. At that moment, the tune began again, made stronger yet by the addition of a rich contralto at the other end of the sisters' row. Sister Elsa Pike. Of course. Wilhelm had Elsa's unquenchable devotion. She had surely taken Mairin's drawings for Wilhelm, and so of course she had helped him plan this service. And it would no doubt be quite a service.

As the chorus began the tune a third time, Elsa led the dancing. Elsa Pike, a plump, flat-featured hill-country woman, was transformed in worship to a graceful and competent dancer. She performed controlled, choreographed movements matched to the song lyrics. She bowed from the waist to show her humility, made sweeping and cleansing movements to represent her willingness to work. She held her hands aloft to receive the bounteous celestial foods and, finally, began to twirl in grateful ecstasy.

The other sisters were familiar with most of the gestures and learned them quickly. Soon they were dancing in flowing unison. Wilhelm joined the brethren and demonstrated a version of the dance that mimed sawing and building and other work normally done by the men.

Rose hung back. The dance was lovely and stirred her heart, but she had learned from experience. When Elsa led the dancing, it soon became the frenzied, trancelike worship that Believers had practiced in their early years, and again during Mother Ann's Work. Rose believed in the dancing, but not in Elsa's practice of it.

Many of the other observers seemed intrigued by the spectacle. Matthew watched sullenly, but his brethren followers swayed as if they longed to join in. Gilbert's group was less than mesmerized, though they had stopped whispering among themselves. From her smirk, Celia must be assessing the dancers' grace and beauty, and judging herself superior. Gilbert's thin, scholarly features showed detached interest. Earl looked wary.

At the moment, no one paid much attention to Rose, though she knew she was visible to everyone. She returned to her back-row bench and began adjusting her shoe, as if it pinched. Something was going to happen, and it would be soon. Rose fought off a sense of helplessness. There was no time. She couldn't imagine what she alone could do when the three-way struggle intensified, but she had to think of something.

Gilbert's group was now to her right and in front of her, so she could watch them more openly. They'd begun to fidget.
Celia's shoulders drooped with boredom, and Earl took her hand. And Gilbert . . . Rose scanned the New-Owenites twice and couldn't find Gilbert's bony profile. She counted them. One was missing. They were close to the men's entrance. Gilbert must have slipped out while Rose fussed with her shoe.

A sound like a dog barking came from the dancers. It had begun. Elsa hopped in a circle, her arms rigid at her side. The other sisters—and the brethren, too—joined in, keeping their distance from each other, of course. Then Elsa flung out her arms and began to twirl, followed by the others, creating a kaleidoscope of butternut and dark blue swirls. Elsa twirled dangerously close to Wilhelm, and the New-Owenites were no longer bored. Rose's limbs felt tight, bunched up for action. She still had no idea what that action might be, but her gaze darted from group to group, alert to danger.

As Rose expected, Elsa stopped twirling and went rigid with a suddenness that almost threw her off balance. Except for her quick-step recovery, she gave every appearance of being in a deep trance. The other Believers stopped their dancing and formed a broken circle around her, sisters on one side, brethren on the other.