The Devil's Cold Dish (21 page)

Now he pulled up the slope toward his house, eagerly anticipating a hot bath, fresh food that wasn't cheese, and a good night's sleep in his own bed. But as soon as he saw the wagon, with the ox between the traces, pulled up to the front porch he knew he would be denied all of those things. He pulled Hannibal to a stop. Sam and Charlie came out of the barn. Charlie hurried over and grasped the bridle. “I'll take care of the horse,” he said, his expression somber. “You'd better go inside. My mother…” He paused when Rees groaned. Charlie smiled and offered Rees a hand to help him down from the wagon. He needed it. He had driven home as fast as he could, barely stopping, and his entire body seemed solidified into stone.

Sam caught up to his son. “I'll help,” he said with a broad grin. Rees inspected the other man, a wave of guilt and pity sweeping over him. Sam's grimy cheeks were unshaven and his hair hung in rattails to the gray shoulders of his unwashed linen shirt. His breeches were so dirty Rees couldn't decide what the original color had been, and Sam had lost the buttons at the knees. He was bare-legged and barefoot and looked like one of the homeless men who wandered the roads. He smelled like something rotting, an odor so penetrating Rees stepped backward, gagging.

“Go back to the barn and finish raking out the stalls,” Charlie said sternly. He rolled his eyes at Rees.

“I like your horse,” Sam said to Rees as he reached out a hand to stroke the gelding.

“Uh, good,” Rees said. “I have to go inside now.”

“Father,” Charlie said, sounding impatient. “We have work to do. In the barn. Go there, now.” As Sam shuffled away, Charlie turned back to Rees. “I'm sorry. He wanders off. My mother told me to keep a close eye on him while she's here. And me and David with work to do.” He shook his head. Rees directed a sympathetic smile at the boy before going up the porch stairs and into the house.

As soon as he opened the door he could hear his sister haranguing David. “You know your father won't come home. He's run away. Again.”

“No, he hasn't. He's taken Lydia and the younger children away.”

“Oh, but he left you here to face Mr. Farley, hasn't he? While everyone else is safe.” This time David did not reply. “You can't stay here alone. You need us; we'll move in.”

“No!” The word exploded out of David, very sudden and very loud.

“But you can't manage the farm and house without help…”

“He won't be alone,” Rees said, walking through the parlor door. He eyed his sister, so angry that for a moment he didn't trust himself to speak.

She looked up at him, her eyes widening in surprise and dismay. “Well,” she said, pursing her lips and frowning, “I didn't expect to see you.”

“I told you he was coming home,” David said. “I told you.”

“I had to bring Lydia and the children to visit family,” Rees said.

“I thought she had no family,” Caroline said. Rees did not reply. His wife considered the Shakers her family. “I was just trying to help,” Caroline added.

“No, you weren't,” Rees said.

“Yes, I was. If Lydia is convicted of witchcraft and you weren't here, the farm could be forfeit. David could be evicted. But if I was here…”

“You might obtain the farm,” Rees said. “Might.” He glared at her. The fact that she was right about the possibilities did not ease his anger.

She stared up at him, her eyes filling with tears. As Rees looked at her, his annoyance began to lessen. His sister, younger by three years, looked so worn. Silver threaded her chestnut hair. He remembered her hair shining with red highlights, but there was more white now than red. Lines fanned out from the corners of her eyes and furrows grooved her forehead.

“I will be here with David,” Rees said. “And Lydia will soon be home.” He paused and then said, trying to be gentle, “You have your own farm, Caro.”

“It's not a good farm, not productive like this one. It's not worth very much. We have no livestock—only chickens and the oxen we use for plowing.”

“It could be, with work,” Rees said, interrupting the litany of complaints.

“I'm not good at it, Will,” Caroline said, sniffling. “You don't like it either. But at least you have a skill.”

Her sudden unvarnished honesty reduced Rees to silence. Finally he nodded. “That's true. But I have my own family to care for. I'll offer you what help I can.”

“Mother and Father charged you with looking after me,” Caroline interrupted, her voice rising into a wail. “I don't understand why we can't move in here.”

“Why didn't you stay with Phoebe?” Rees asked. “She was willing to look after you.”

“I was neither wife nor widow. Sam, well, Charlie fetched Sam and brought him to Phoebe's and she told us to leave.”

“What happened?” Rees asked. “Did Sam start beating you again?”

Caroline glared at her brother. “He never beat me. Ever.” Rees stared at her. He knew Sam had and didn't understand why Caroline was telling him such a lie.

“You know that's not true, Caro,” he said.

Caroline tossed her head and said, “You could arrange to sell the farm. That would be good for all of us.” She smiled. “I could finally visit Boston.”

“And what would you do about Sam?” Rees asked.

“He could stay here, with you. After all, it's your fault he's like this.”

In an instant, Rees's sympathy fled. Caroline refused to take any responsibility for her poor choices. “No,” he said. “Never.” He was saved from blurting out a reply he would later regret by Charlie's arrival at the parlor door. “Are you ready to go home yet?” Charlie asked his mother. Sam stood next to his son, smiling. He was shorter than his son now but heavier, with a barrel chest and skinny legs. Even from the distance separating them, Rees could smell Sam's rotting-meat body odor.

“I like
your
farm,” Sam said, staring directly at Rees. “I like your horses and your cattle.” Enmity flashed into his eyes and then disappeared into his usual vacuous expression, so quickly Rees wondered if he'd imagined it.

“Yes, I'm ready. Since my own brother won't help me.” Caroline jumped to her feet and flounced past Rees. She paused at the door. “I think you'd have been kinder if you weren't married. I wish you hadn't wed Lydia. She's changed you, made you hard. Maybe she's a witch after all and has cast a spell on you.”

Before Rees could formulate a response, Caroline had joined Sam and started down the hall to the front door. Charlie paused, his face crimson. “Sorry. My mother…” Since no words could explain or make amends for his mother's behavior, he allowed his voice to trail away. After an uncomfortable few seconds, he looked at David. “I'll be back as soon as I've gotten them off.” His footsteps clattered down the hall and the front door slammed behind him.

Rees collapsed into the horsehair chair behind him. His legs were trembling so much they couldn't support him. He looked at his son.

“This was her third visit,” David said.

“Was she like that before?”

David nodded. “Yes. Not quite as tearful.”

“I'm sorry,” Rees said.

David shrugged. “You're back now so she probably won't return. Not immediately, anyway.” He stood up. “I'll see you later. Charlie and I are working in one of the cornfields.”

Rees nodded. “I'm going to eat something. Then I'll go down to the pond and take a swim.”

David sighed. “I miss Squeaker. More than I thought I would.” On that surprising statement, he followed his cousin outside. Rees smiled. At least this awful time had one silver lining; David was realizing how attached he'd become to Simon.

Rees sat in the chair for a minute or two after David's departure. He was still shaking. It was not so much the quarrel with Caroline. Although that had been unpleasant, it seemed to him when he looked back on his life that every conversation he'd ever had with his sister had become an argument. It was the rapid change in his emotions, from anger to pity to sympathy and back to fury, in the space of a few minutes that had exhausted him. Especially since the confrontation had occurred after some very difficult days.

Finally he pushed himself to his feet and lumbered into the kitchen. His legs felt both stiff and weak and he would have liked nothing better than to remain seated. But his stomach was growling and after he'd eaten his chores must be done.

It was the sound of buzzing that penetrated first. Then the smell hit him, a pungent rotting smell almost as though Sam was still here, waiting for Rees in the kitchen. Rees paused in the doorway and looked around. The dishpan with its mound of dirty dishes sat in the sink just as Lydia had left it five days before. More dishes were piled upon the table. Flies hung in a cloud over the food-encrusted crockery. He peered at the plates and bowls in the sink. It must be a trick of the light; it looked as though the food was moving. Then he jumped back, gagging. Maggots swarmed over the dishes.

He bent double, retching, his appetite disappearing. David had moved back into the main house and, busy outside, had done none of the inside work. Rees grabbed a bucket and stormed outside to the trough. He wished his son had at least kept up with his own dishes.

He discovered he could not just put the kettle to heat over the fire. The last embers were almost out. Although the fire had been banked and stirred up and banked again, the wood had burned into just a pile of ashes. No new logs had been added. Rees had to sweep out the residue of all the old fires, put in fresh wood, relight the kindling, and then, finally, put the kettle over the flames.

The spider with at least an inch of grease sat on one side of the brick hearth. It looked as though David had eaten only bacon these last few days. The leftover stew had grown a coat of white.

Choking, his fingers twitching away from the maggots, Rees carefully extracted the dishes from the dirty water and threw the slimy liquid out the back door. He thought Lydia would be furious if she saw the filthy dishpan. Rees rinsed it three times before finally adding the hot water.

Then he began washing the dishes with the strong yellow soap. As the water in the dishpan cooled and turned gray, he threw it out and added fresh, a chore that had to be done four or five times. It took Rees over two hours to finish washing the crockery. He scraped the bacon grease into the barrel in the pantry and finally filled the large kettle with water. That he put directly over the fire and set it to boil.

As he worked his thoughts returned to his confrontation with his sister. The only thing that would make her happy was Rees's surrender. For a moment he considered the possibility of taking her and her family in. Although Caroline was difficult, he conceded that he might still allow her and the children to live here. But not Sam. Besides the animosity that had existed between them for so many years, Rees kept remembering the flash of fully conscious hostility he'd just seen in Sam's eyes. For all that Sam was supposed to be touched, and Rees was beginning to doubt that, allowing him to live here would be like taking a wolf into one's bed. Rees would never allow Sam to live here again.

Rees paused in the kitchen and took stock. He was tempted to drive into town and eat a proper meal at the Contented Rooster. But that would mean harnessing Hannibal to the wagon once again and Rees just didn't have the energy. Besides, he was so hot and sweaty he could smell himself. When he licked his lips he tasted salt. He peered into the pantry to see if there was anything quick he could eat. But the bread was hard and moldy, and it looked as though David had eaten everything else, even the cheese.

Rees grabbed a linen towel, took the fragment of soap left from washing the dishes, and went down to the pond.

The water was warm but refreshing for all of that. Rees scrubbed himself from crown to toes and then submerged completely, rinsing away almost a week's worth of perspiration. He stayed in the water until the shadow from the sugar maple crept over the pond and the light took on the golden tone of late afternoon. Then he climbed out. Reluctantly he dressed in his dirty body linen and breeches and thrust his bare feet into his shoes. He tramped up the slope to the back door. The kitchen was empty and it looked as though the boys had not come inside. The kettle boiled enthusiastically; it was at least ten degrees hotter because of the fire burning on the hearth. Rees used the hook to move the pot away from the flames. Realizing how hungry he was, he made himself pancakes and ate standing up by the door. Then he went upstairs to change into fresh linen.

As soon as he entered the bedchamber, he realized his loom was lying on its side on the floor. He hurried to right it, only to discover one of the sidepieces had been wrenched off. Rees lifted the beam from the floor. The comblike reed had been bent and thrown to the other side of the room and the heddles were scattered around the floor in a shower of silvery pins. There were a few sparkling in Joseph's bed.

An unaccustomed burning formed at the back of Rees's eyes. He walked to the window and looked out, struggling to calm himself. He couldn't see either David or Charlie and wondered if they had gone to Caroline's farm to put in some work there. He exhaled a long breath. It would take only a few hours to reattach the wooden pieces and to straighten out the reed, collect the heddles, and reinstall them. Although none of the damage to the loom was irreparable, he felt personally violated. The motive behind this destruction hurt him more than a slap or a blow would have; it had been designed to destroy his livelihood. And it showed him that nothing, not even his bedchamber in his house, was exempt from the vandal's reach. Rees wiped his wet eyes on his sleeve. Although he could understand that some people might dislike him, the vengeful desire behind these personal attacks sent him into shudders of both fear and despair. Although he hated admitting it, Caroline possessed the necessary malice. But he did not think she possessed the strength. So who? Could it be Zedediah Farley? He had strength and malice and a rifle besides. But could he sneak onto Rees's farm without anyone noticing?