The Devil's Cold Dish (17 page)

At that moment Charlie jumped over the back steps and hurried into the kitchen. He was red-faced and sweating profusely. “I had to close all the gates,” he muttered to Rees. “I'll go after the constable now. But first, I want to get my father out. David said he was here?”

Rees nodded and pointed at the stairs with his chin. “Up there.”

Charlie took the stairs two at a time. “No, I don't want to go.” Sam's protest was clearly audible. “I want to stay with Mr. Farley. I don't want to go home.”

“We're all leaving now,” Farley said, his voice floating down into the kitchen. Rees heard Farley's tread upon the stairs and a few seconds later all of them were coming down. “But wait.” Farley looked past Rees and the children clutching at him. “Maybe Mrs. Rees went outside to hide.”

“You've seen the house,” Rees said, his voice sounding rough to his own ears. “She isn't here. It's time for all of you to leave.” Judah began crying hysterically; he wasn't used to that angry tone.

“Not until we've found the witch,” Farley said, his hand clutching at the amulet about his neck.

“I warned you,” Rees said. “I'm telling you to get out now.” He deposited Joseph in Jerusha's arms and stepped forward.

“My father said get out.” David brushed past the other boys and joined his father. He looked at Elijah McIntyre. “You promised nothing would happen,” he said.

Elijah exhaled and nodded. “We should leave,” he agreed. “Mrs. Rees isn't here.”

“We'll search the farm,” Farley cried. “She's gotta be hiding somewhere. We'll find her.”

“I said get out,” Rees shouted. His stomach was twisted into knots and he was shaking so hard it felt like his bones were rattling inside his skin. But the beast, his temper, was rising and he was prepared to fight all of these men to defend his wife and family. “Get off my property. Now.”

“Mr. Rees has asked you to leave.” Caldwell's voice came from the front hall. Rees stared at him with a mixture of relief and astonishment; Charlie hadn't left to fetch him yet. Heads turned as the constable thrust his way through the mob. “I suggest you do so. Otherwise, I'll have to arrest all of you.”

“You and who else?” sneered one of the men.

Caldwell looked over his shoulder. George Potter and Jack Anderson followed the constable into the kitchen. Rees realized he'd heard hoofbeats but in all the excitement he'd thought nothing of it. Potter carried two pistols. Although they were capable of only one shot each, the men scuttled backward when Potter waved them around. No one wanted to be one of those shot. Jack Anderson was even more fearsome. He carried a long and wickedly sharp kitchen knife.

“There are five of us,” Caldwell said. He smiled. “And some of us are armed. That evens us up, doesn't it?'

Farley turned a look of hatred upon Rees. “She got away this time but we'll be back for her.”

Rees took a step forward. “I told you to get out.” He involuntarily lifted his clenched fist and for a moment he held Farley's gaze.

Then Farley, with a derisive snort, spat on the floor and stamped out of the kitchen. Gradually, the rest of the mob followed, Charlie pushing his father before him. Within a few minutes all were gone. Rees exhaled the breath he did not realize he'd been holding.

Caldwell turned to him. “Are you all right?” he asked. Rees tried to nod, his legs trembling so convulsively he thought he might fall. He tottered to a chair and collapsed into it.

“Surely they don't think you had anything to do with those murders,” Jack said to Rees. He put the knife on the table. Rees looked at it and then raised his eyes to his old friend.

“I thought…” Rees stopped and moistened his lips. He thought he had never been so terrified in his life, not even during the war. “They came into my house, Jack, and threatened my wife,” he said.

 

Chapter Fifteen

Rees had to assure himself of Lydia's safety. Leaving the constable and his other friends sitting at the table, Rees followed David out of the kitchen. The dairy was nestled in a copse of trees and so was not immediately visible from the house. Both Lydia and Rees had frequently complained about the distance but he was thankful for it now. Although his legs had been trembling when he stood up, by the time he reached the bottom of the back stairs, he was running in a clumsy stagger. Jerusha and the other children were close behind.

David called through the door, “Abby. Abigail.”

Simultaneously Rees shouted, “Lydia.”

The clatter of something heavy being moved from the door sounded within the dairy, and then the door opened. Lydia peered out. “What happened?” she asked. “David told us to…” Her words ended in a surprised gurgle as Rees snatched her into his arms and hugged her tightly. He was only dimly conscious of David clasping Abigail in his arms.

“Someone came to warn us out,” Jerusha cried, clutching at Lydia's skirts. She began crying and all the other children except Simon joined in. Jerusha and Simon at least recalled their lives in New York where the selectmen of their town threatened to expel the family for being poor. Lydia freed herself from Rees's embrace.

“I'm sure that didn't happen,” she said in a calm voice, her gaze seeking out Rees's. “You must have misunderstood.”

“It's all over now,” Rees said. But he met Lydia's eyes and tried to convey without speaking the seriousness of the situation.

“My Shaker family was frequently harassed; it means nothing,” Lydia said, striving for a reassuring tone. “It will soon be time for supper; you children should stay out here and play while I start it.”

“Me too?” Jerusha said in surprise. Lydia usually insisted on including Jerusha so that she might learn how to cook.

“You too.” Lydia smiled. “You've had a fright. It will be good for you to forget about it for a few minutes.” She shot a glance at her husband. “And Rees and I have to talk over a few things.”

“Unless, of course,” David said, “you all want to help me milk?” Jerusha, shaking her head, hurried all the children but Simon away. The boy trailed after David and Abigail toward the barn and the pasture behind it.

Rees and Lydia began walking toward the house. Now that he had an opportunity to tell his wife what had happened, Rees didn't know what to say.

“David frightened us,” Lydia said at last. “What happened, Will?”

“A delegation came from town. Led by Zedediah Farley.” Rees spat out the name. “They wanted to arrest you, Lydia.”

“Arrest me? For what?” Lydia asked. Rees could see the thoughts moving behind her eyes. “Not for witchcraft?”

“Yes.”

Lydia turned a horrified look upon her husband. “This is not Salem one hundred years ago. I only hope cooler heads would have prevailed as they did with Mother Ann Lee ten years ago.”

“Mother Ann Lee was not expecting a baby,” Rees said. He sounded hoarse with fear and he paused to clear his throat. “We have no jail so you'd have been housed in the stables. And I am not so certain you would have been soon freed.” He did not want to tell her about the rope.

Lydia did not speak as they climbed the stairs into the kitchen. Only Caldwell still sat at the table. He had found Lydia's ale and helped himself to a mugful. As Rees came inside, the constable said, “Mr. Potter and Mr. Anderson went back to town.” He smiled. “They have businesses to run whereas I can sit here all day.”

Rees was not taken in by Caldwell's flippant tone. “Thank you for coming to my aid, and so quickly. How did you know so soon? Charlie hadn't even left yet.”

“I overheard one of the regulars in the Bull talking about it. I'm sorry; I was later than I expected to be. I didn't want to come alone. Mr. Potter was in his office but Jack Anderson took some tracking down.”

“I am so grateful,” Rees said.

“Indeed,” Lydia agreed. “But surely we're safe now?”

Caldwell shook his head at her. “I don't think you are. Farley may be a superstitious fool but he is not the only man who…” He stopped to consider his words.

“Who views me with suspicion because I was a Shaker.” Lydia finished the thought for him.

He nodded. “And with the recent murders—well, Zadoc Ward won't be missed but Thomas McIntyre was popular in this town—people's feelings are on edge.” His lips curled up in a mirthless smile. “A deformed calf was born on one of the nearby farms yesterday. Mr. Farley, well, not only him, but several people in town have pointed to that as proof of witchcraft.”

Lydia made a small sound of distress. Rees said nothing. He was struggling to understand how these people, people he knew and had grown up with, could be accusing his wife of something so ridiculous as well as threatening her with imprisonment and possibly hanging.

“But no one said anything to me last year when we married,” Rees said finally, as though that would make a difference. “No one said anything at all.”

“Someone lit the spark,” Caldwell said.

“Caroline,” Rees breathed. “She admits starting the rumor but she claims she had nothing to do with Ward or the attacks on Lydia.”

“Maybe not.” Caldwell's tone left no doubt he didn't believe that at all. “But someone fanned the flames. If not her, who?”

Rees did not speak for several seconds, his mind busy with the constable's question. Rees knew there were several people who disliked him, some from his childhood, like James Carleton and Piggy Hanson, and some from more recent interactions, like Molly Bowditch. And Rees mustn't forget Farley. But did dislike lead to this kind of planned assault on a person's life and liberty? Rees thought that kind of attack took both rage and hatred. Was Caroline that angry? Rees considered his own question. Maybe, he concluded reluctantly. And Sam certainly hated Rees enough to go after him, and besides possessed a wide streak of violence. It was Sam's steady harassment and attack upon Rees last year that had led to his injury, as Rees defended himself, in the first place. If Sam were not so clearly touched he would be Rees's first suspect.

Rees had been dimly conscious of buggy wheels on the drive out front but had assumed they belonged to Abigail's brother, arriving to pick her up. The thunderous knocking on the front door made him jump. The force of the fusillade of blows upon the wood did not sound like Abigail's family, the quiet Quaker Bristols. As Rees stood, the door opened and heavy footsteps approached down the hall. Fearing that this new visitor was one of Mr. Farley's mob, Rees looked around for a weapon, any weapon. Caldwell rose to his feet as well.

But instead of Farley, the man who stepped into the kitchen was the magistrate, Cornelius Hanson. Rees sagged into his chair with relief. “Hello, Piggy,” he said. “Would you care for a glass of ale?” Now that the initial wave of dread was receding, Rees was beginning to wonder why the judge had driven all the way out to the farm.

Hanson ignored Rees, turning to the constable instead. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard there was a disturbance,” Caldwell began. His eyebrows had risen almost to the edge of his greasy hair.

“A peaceful inquiry, nothing more,” Hanson said in a sharp voice. “But you brought a posse of armed men and threatened several of the town's leading citizens.”

“Wait a minute,” Rees said indignantly. “That mob was endangering my home and family. The constable saved us.”

“You stay out of this,” Hanson told Rees. “I believe Caldwell's friendship with you is clouding his judgment.”

“Farley and the rest of his men were threatening my wife,” Rees said, his voice rising.

Hanson flicked a glance at Lydia. “A day or so in jail wouldn't have hurt her. There have been two murders during this past week, in case you've forgotten. If she's innocent, she has nothing to worry about.” Reduced to silence by this callous statement, Rees could only stare. He'd always viewed the pudgy, pink-and-white Piggy Hanson as foolish, indeed, somewhat ridiculous. But now he looked dangerous. “And you,” Hanson continued, turning his gaze to Caldwell, “you should have discussed this ill-advised attack with me.”

“You might have been on circuit…” Caldwell tried to interrupt.

“… before haring off with a group of armed men.” Hanson raised his voice. “I plan to bring this before the selectmen. We'll see if you keep your job.” Leveling a final glare at Rees, a look of mingled anger and triumph, Hanson lumbered from the kitchen.

No one spoke until they heard the front door slam. “Maybe he is behind all of this,” Rees said in a shaky voice. Stunned by Hanson's anger and open dislike, Rees was only partly joking.

“What have you done to him?” Lydia asked. She sat down at the table and put her trembling hands upon it.

“I teased him when we were boys.” Rees stopped. That intensity of loathing arising from boyhood mischief seemed implausible. “Recently?” He paused to think. “I advised the Widow Penney and some of her friends not to invest in his land schemes.”

“He doesn't like you, that's for sure,” Caldwell agreed. “But I think this might stem from his friendship with Molly Bowditch.”

Rees swore under his breath. When he'd investigated the death of his boyhood friend Nate, Molly's husband, Rees had uncovered many of the townspeople's secrets. Molly's had not been the only one but it had been one of the most shocking, and although she had her supporters, such as Piggy Hanson, many of her former friends now ostracized her. Her own son refused to speak to her. Molly blamed Rees for the change in her life and he supposed she would never forgive him.

“I'd better start supper,” Lydia said, heaving herself up from the table. She stepped into the pantry to inspect the leftovers from the noon dinner.

“I should talk to Molly,” Rees said. “And Piggy Hanson too.” Caldwell nodded and fixed an intent gaze upon Rees.