Winter Harvest

Winter Harvest

By

Coralie Hughes Jensen

Copyright 2012 Coralie Hughes Jensen

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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For Bruce, my loving husband, and best friend, and Hannah, my dog.

Acknowledgments

My first exposure to the Shaker way of life came when I first moved to New England and visited the Canterbury Shaker Village in Canterbury, New Hampshire. I would like to thank the tour guides who took the time to answer my often difficult questions.

My appreciation to Hancock Shaker Village Inc., an educational organization that has faithfully kept its Shaker history museum and persevered its buildings and grounds in a state that allows one to experience Shaker ingenuity and simplicity. I would also like to thank the tour guides who patiently answered all my questions about living in a commune nearly two centuries ago, and the gift store, where I bought books on the history of the Shakers. I studied each book closely, in order to better understand the intentions of the ministry and the ambience of their simple life.

Thank you, Old Sturbridge Village in Sturbridge, Massachusetts for allowing me to immerse myself in the country life of New England up to 1840. From this outdoor museum, I was able to glimpse many of the little details I used in Winter Harvest.

I would like to thank Alison Gaede, my sister, who said this book was her favorite of all that I have written, and of course, my husband, who eagerly accompanied me on my trips to serve as my memory both by listening and by taking photographs.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 Lucy

Chapter 2 Sarah

Chapter 3 The Garden

Chapter 4 The Sacred Shrine

Chapter 5 Through the Window

Chapter 6 The Outside

Chapter 7 A Real Trustee

Chapter 8 Caught

Chapter 9 The Penalty

Chapter 10 Command Performance

Chapter 11 Undercover

Chapter 12 Imaginable

Chapter 13 The Return

Chapter 14 Surprise Arrest

Chapter 15 Treasure

Chapter 16 Sinking the Header

Chapter 17 Principle Suspect

Chapter 18 A Simple Gift

Chapter 19 Betrayal

Chapter 20 Darkness

Chapter 21 Rescued

Chapter 22 Impossible Choices

About the Author

Excerpt: L’Oro Verde

Chapter 1 Lucy

It was a moonless night. The darkness was so heavy it tumbled down over the grassy field. The pond, a black syrupy molasses, swallowed the speckled starlight. Mary usually liked her walks, the clatter of late autumn keeping her company—the persistent whirr of crickets, the crackle of dried leaves underfoot, and the swoosh of wind through the straggly branches. But this night was hushed, the cloak of shadows muffling all sounds. Mary didn’t even hear the approach. She felt it, the ground shuddering restlessly, like a spasm that sends concentric ripples through water—a signal that launched dread in the pit of Mary’s stomach, Elizabeth whispered, her face contorted by the flicker of flames from the hearth.

We young girls sat cross-legged in front of her. Our mouths agape, we wrenched our skirts and twisted our fingers. Charity closed her eyes in an effort to stop the flow of words from reaching her brain. Molly’s gaped so wide, you would have thought her mouth would be stuck open forever. But I did not move. I could not move. My ankles and wrists were frozen in place. A scream hovered just below my vocal chords, thrusting upward, but my throat was constricted and unable to release any sound at all. My chest throbbed in anticipation as I waited for the climax.

Mary could feel the hot breath on her neck before she heard him, Elizabeth continued. She smelled it too—burnt flesh and dung. Her skin prickled, but not enough to make her move, to step away, or, God forbid, to run. And when he touched her, she closed her eyes, trying not to look at his tortured visage, knowing who he was by the stories that preceded him. He caressed her arm, ripping her sleeve and leaving a track of blood to her elbow, his long nails having become claws so he could survive in the forest. Then he grabbed her waist and pulled her to face him.

The screams began to escape from the mouths of Elizabeth’s young audience who had already scattered like leaves in the wind, hiding behind chairs or tables but unable to escape because Elizabeth had locked the doors. I still sat cross-legged before her, trying to act stoic but unable to move or even close my eyes to the ugly scene I knew Elizabeth was about to reveal.

"Mary pushed him away. She poked at his eyes, but the skin of his eyelids came loose in her hands. He clung to her, trying to get her to kiss him, but when she twisted to pull back, his grip slipped, his talon-like nails running along the front of her torso. Blood and insides oozed from her wound. He grasped at her neck to turn her toward him once again, but she wrenched away—too hard, slitting her throat on his claws. As her knees buckled from loss of blood, she slid from his arms, feeling the repulsive hirsute skin against hers. Suddenly, he howled, piercing her eardrums. He thrust the swooning body above his head in triumph before flinging Mary into the pond, the thud producing numerous wavelets along the shore."

Did they find her? Molly asked.

Not at first. She’d lost too much blood and couldn’t swim. Finally the pond must have released her, I guess, because her grave’s in the forest.

Where? asked Charity.

In that small cemetery at the end of the path. Haven’t you seen the assemblage of headstones there?

No, we all said in unison.

I’ll have to show you. We can take a walk there while the weather’s still good. The Community’s built on what were once three different farms. The one out in back of the pond here belonged to the Fieldings. Mary Fielding was the daughter. The headstones are for that family.

How old was she?

She was sixteen or seventeen, I think—and a devout follower of our mother, Ann Lee, as were her parents. Mother Ann was scouting the area, looking for recruits for her church. John and Mariah Fielding would house Mother Ann when she traveled from New York, and she’d perform meetings right there in the farmhouse.

What happened to them?

Before our church, the United Society of Believers, was established here, the locals persecuted families who helped Mother Ann. First, the hairy man murdered Mary. A few years later, the authorities dragged Mr. and Mrs. Fielding to the city jail to try them for treason. This was a new country, and people were still fearful British spies hung around, trying to bring down our fledgling government. Mother Ann was British, so people must have thought the Fieldings were her agents. Anyway, they never went to trial. The jail burned down with them still in it. Someone claimed the hairy man did it. With them dead too, no one cared enough to seek revenge for Mary’s death. In their will, the Fieldings bequeathed the farm to Mother Ann, but I don’t think they really left, Elizabeth said, dropping her voice. Someone’s out there protecting those headstones. Someone we can’t see in the dark.

Did they catch him? I asked, my voice squeaking like a trapped mouse.

No. They looked for him for years and years and even tried to ambush him. Unfortunately, he always escaped capture.

But he’d be dead by now, Lizzy, said Charity. He’d be too old.

You’d think so, said Elizabeth, her face still animated. But some of us have seen him walking around on late autumn evenings—like tonight.

No you haven’t, said Molly, sitting down in front of the fire again.

Well, maybe not him but his footprints. Because they’re so long, his toenails curl over, leaving a distinctive human print. And we can still hear his anguished howl.

Nuh-uh. That’s a fox or maybe a wolf.

Think what you like, Sister Molly, but Sister Peg believes she saw him when she took leftovers out to feed the chickens and cats after dinner one evening. She said he was along the tree line, skulking like a raccoon, only this one was a man bent over like a hunchback.

Molly and Charity hugged each other. Who was he? they asked.

Some say he was once Mariah’s lover before she married John Fielding. She’d sneak out at night to meet her beau in the thick wood. They wanted to marry, but her father wouldn’t allow it. She’d go against him and God’s laws, however, and continue to meet him in the forest. Evidently, her father suspected or somehow found out because he hung around, hoping to see Edgar—that was her lover’s name, Edgar—in the forest one night. When Edgar waited for his lover to come to him, Mariah’s father sneaked up from behind and poured boiling oil over him. It melted his head, chunks of hair and skin dripping down his neck and arms. He was so deformed, he ran into the forest to hide himself and learned how to survive like an animal. When Mariah found out, she was irate with her father. But of course, he was her father so she had to marry the man he chose, even though the idea of sleeping with her new husband was repulsive to her. She still took walks in the forest but always hoped she wouldn’t see Edgar because she knew he’d be deformed and felt so guilty.

Did she love him? asked Charity.

Probably not. Would you love a man who looked that bad? I’m positive I would’ve thrown up. Anyway, after they recovered Mary’s body from the pond, they buried her there in the forest so her gravesite would haunt him.

Will you take us there tonight? Molly asked.

Good Lord, no. Eldress Evelyn wouldn’t let us out at night.

She lets us go out to the shed.

That’s only if you’re sick. Otherwise you use the pots and certainly don’t go to the forest. All sorts of men wander through these woods. Edgar isn’t the only one yearning to sink his blade into a pretty young virgin!

Is that the story? Charity asked. I can’t wait to see the headstones.

Yes, said Elizabeth. Did you like it?

Yes, the other girls agreed.

Are you all right, Sister Lucy? Elizabeth asked.

I pulled myself up. Yes, I said, still feeling a bit shaky.

Off to bed now. I’ll have to come up with another story for next week.

So you made it all up? I asked her.

Not at all. This one’s true. Ask Brother Seth to show you the tracks he found out near Otter Creek.

* * * * *

My father, Marcus Hammond, had a commanding voice. My brothers and sisters and I could not help but listen. Even if we covered our ears, we could still hear him. One early spring evening after dinner in 1838, he gathered all five of us around the table, thrust his hands into the pockets, and announced, We aren’t makin’ it here, kids. I talked to Mr. Broderick at the bank, and he said he has no more money to lend us. They’re takin’ the farm away. I guess you can’t fight nature when she’s turned her back. I watched Papa’s eyes focus on me. Your mother and I have a plan, though. We’ve heard there’s more land openin’ up out west. We have enough cash and supplies for some of us to make it there but not for everyone.

He stopped to listen to our gasps. My little brother Paul started to cry, and I put my arms around him.

That doesn’t mean we’re leavin’ any of you here permanent. We just have to get to western Ohio. Then we’ll start sendin’ for you again.

Where do we have to go? Willie asked. William was the eldest, nearly sixteen and big, with unruly hair, red as a cock’s comb.

There’s a community near here that takes in children and educates them. All you have to do is learn their religion, and they’ll take you in. You all need religion. We talked to them already, and they want to meet you, Lucy. The other girls are too old, and we need the boys to help set up the farm on the other end.

The air rushed out of my lungs. Who are they?

They’re called some long name I can’t remember, but they have a beautiful clean place. Broderick calls them Shakin’ Quakers, because they’re peaceful like Quakers.

Why are they shaking? I asked.

It has somethin’ to do with the way they pray. They sort of dance when they worship. That sounds like fun, doesn’t it, Punkin? It’ll be like goin’ to a ball every Sunday.

I gazed at the others and saw surprise unfurling across their faces.

What about the rest of us? Constance, my eldest sister, asked.

We’ve got to check out some more places for you and Martha, he said. And there’s still the possibility little Paul will have to be left somewhere, requirin’ us to collect him later.

Lydia, our mother, had not said a word. In fact, she was not even in the room. But, of course, Mama had little say once my father got it in his mind to abandon the farm and move west.

* * * * *

I recall my first day at Hancock because I could not believe no one had mentioned it was only a few weeks before my eighth birthday. I also remember hugging my brothers and sisters in the wagon because my parents would not let them go in.

Are you scared? Martha asked.

I squeezed past her knees to climb down. No, I said, not sure how to answer. You and Mama and Papa are coming back for me as soon as you’re all settled. Mama said so.

Tears rolled down Constance’s cheeks, but she turned away before I could hug her. I patted her shoulder.

Let’s move, said Papa. The sooner we go, the sooner all will be settled.

Mama shot Papa an angry look. I took her hand, and she slowly led me up the walk. Leaving me at the door, she kissed my cheek, and burying my head in her collar, I threw my arms around her neck.

She knelt down and pulled me away. The time will go fast, Lucy. I promise.

Removing the scarf that hung from her neck, Mama wrapped it around mine. Then she left. I hardly remember her face—mostly her back as she walked away without glancing around, and her smell, of course, though I suspect the scent of the scarf has changed over the years of her absence.

* * * * *

Hancock Village is like a small town, Eldress Evelyn said, leading me into the members’ dwelling to meet another eldress, Abigail. This building’s one house. There are two more like it near here. But the town has more than just dwellings. It also has businesses. Most of the buildings around here are businesses—places where we work.

I stood beside her, afraid to let go of her hand.

You’ll go to school in another month or so, she said. Girls attend school during the summer months and work after classes. Because most of the heavy work is done in the summer, boys go to school in the winter.

I resisted the urge to insert my thumb into my mouth. My mother had warned me on numerous occasions I was too old to do it, but it made me feel so much better. I go to school in New Lebanon next year. There’ll be mostly boys in our class.

The eldress turned to face me. Boys and girls don’t socialize here. We’re all equal in the eyes of our Lord, but we’re separate. Sins of the flesh interfere with our work and make women inferior to men.

Having no idea what she was talking about, I stared at her.

We’re here on earth to await the second appearing of the Savior. He’s coming soon and will be pleased by what we’ve accomplished, Evelyn continued. It doesn’t look like Eldress Abigail’s here. I’ll take you next door to the retired senior members’ dwelling and show you the school, which is nearby. I’ll get Sister Elizabeth to help you unpack your things. If you have more questions and can’t get any answers, you may come to my office. You’re to address me as Sister, not Eldress Evelyn. We’re all working for God, and I’m no different from anyone else here.

I remember glancing over my shoulder several times to make note of our path. I needed to know how to get back to the wagon when my parents returned to retrieve me.

My first impressions of my new home were benign—at least they seemed that way. As I said, I have few memories of anything that first day. The buildings were painted and lined up in somewhat of a geometric pattern. The place was clean. We walked through the five-story brick dwelling to another a few yards away. This one was an imposing structure similar to the brick dwelling but with wood siding and only three floors. The eldress led me through a door at one end from which a long, wide passage traveled the length of the building.

That across the street is the schoolhouse. Can you read? Most of the girls your age are still struggling with that, so if not, you’ll be able to catch up quickly, she said, still holding my hand. Always enter through the left-hand door and walk on this side, Sister Lucy. You’ll have no need to cross over to the right side of this passage until you’re older and have reason to be over there.

About halfway, we turned left into another passage that crossed in front of us.

My office is this one near the girls’ entrance. Next to my office is my sleeping quarters and across the hall is a small meeting room. If you have to wait for me, you sit in there. You rarely need to cross over to the other end of this hallway where Brother Thomas lives. Just as the boys must not come over here, you must never ever use the door at that end. Follow me, she said, slipping past.

I ran to catch up and grab her hand.

Sisters your age live on the second floor, she continued. At the end of this hall is the dining room, and on the right is the stairway the women use. When we came in through the meeting room door, there was also a staircase for the men. Did you see it?

My head whirled. I was not used to so many rules and certainly did not understand why the girls had to use different doors and stairs than the boys. At the top of the stairway, we stopped at the first room that held five or six beds, a few sets of drawers, and along each wall, a string of pegs about chest high.

Sister Elizabeth here will take over. She’s your elder sister and holds the key to your contentment in the Community.

I must have stared blankly at the eldress, but the woman quickly turned away and left. I did not know if I was supposed to follow her.

Your name? Elizabeth asked curtly.

Lucy Hammond. My knees shook.

How old are you, Sister Lucy?

I turn eight next week. I could not wait and hoped Elizabeth would suggest we have a party.

Your bed’s over here by the window between Sister Molly and Sister Charity. They’re a bit older but will be moved to the next room if more girls your age arrive. Leave your things on the bed and follow me, she said, twisting her hair between her fingers.

Her hands were too high for me to grasp. Trying to keep up with her fast gait, I followed. We traipsed down the stairs and stopped in front of the door at the end of the hall.

This is the dining room. The girls eat at these tables on the right, and though there are no men eating with us, the men eat on the left. We’re the first sitting. The senior members dine at the second, she said before quickly taking off down the next flight. In here is the kitchen. We’re lucky to have our own kitchen and dining room. Members of all the other families eat in the brick dwelling. Sister Peg, this is Sister Lucy. Sister Peg is in charge of our kitchen. You must listen to Sister Peg carefully because you’ll spend a lot of time here.

What’s this? I asked, noting more doors.

This is the pantry. There’s an entrance to another room from here inside the kitchen. That room’s off limits to you.

What is it?

Don’t be nosey, Sister Lucy. That can get you into trouble. The space in that room is for goods going out to people all over the area. In the brick dwelling there’s an assembly room. Businessmen sometimes gather there to do business with the elders. Most of the time, though, the world’s people go directly to the trustees’ house. The door to the outside from that room is over there up some steps next to the men’s entrance, something you wouldn’t notice because you aren’t allowed over there. We receive goods from the world’s people and sell them what we produce. Some of the boxes are stored in that room. I’m not allowed in there either, nor is our eldress. Outside business is done by the deacons and trustees and sometimes by office sisters.

I nodded, still unsatisfied.

We usually start new children in the kitchen, so you’ll stash your things and report down here to Sister Peg in about an hour. I’ll introduce you at a meeting after dinner, Elizabeth said, starting up the stairs again. Hurry up. Don’t just stand there. You aren’t my only charge.

I would learn that Elizabeth, though tall, was only twelve. She was the daughter of one of the senior elders, her whole family requesting to join the commune too. Having never committed to the Believers by signing the covenant to become members, her mother and two older brothers returned to the outside world months later. This was common. Many seemed to be dissatisfied with the so-called power-sharing by the sexes. Elizabeth had been here since she was three and was well versed in the rules set down by the elder ministers. While she was often dismissive, she was also fair, especially when one of us tattled about those who did not keep to the cherished rules.

The first few months were excruciating, because I craved the caress of my mother or one of my older sisters and wanted so badly for Elizabeth to offer me a sign of affection. I was not one of Elizabeth’s favorites, however. I was impulsive and on occasion bent the rules when I could not help myself. Though her tongue was as sharp as a snake’s tooth, to her credit, Elizabeth never swatted or punished me unduly.

Like her, I was plain. My brown hair was thin and stringy and my features unremarkable. Unlike her, no one had ever called me homely so I never suspected my appearance might get in my way. For years, Elizabeth did not see me as a competitor to her rise in the ranks and treated me with little deference. That said, I was fiercely independent and curious to a fault, both traits eventually destroying any hope of a relationship with her before it ever got off the ground.

* * * * *

It was Evelyn, the eldress of our dwelling, who taught me about my new family soon after I arrived. She sat me down in her small office and explained that our Community had been founded by a woman, Mother Ann Lee.

Mother Ann arrived on our shores from England in 1774, and because it was so close to our war against British control, many people persecuted her, she said. Mother Ann had begun winning over Americans in New York and then courageously traveled from town to town, converting others to her new religion. Many didn’t like her. They threw stones and jailed her because they thought she was a heretic.

What’s a heretic? I asked.

They said she was sinning because she wasn’t following their church laws. Nonetheless, she converted enough people to start a new church. We became the United Society of Believers. Early worshippers formed families, carving out the forests and transforming the land into big farms. It was difficult at first, but because they worked hard, look what we have today.

Where’s she now?

She’s in heaven with the Heavenly Father and Holy Mother Wisdom.

I thought this was heaven.

No, Sister, this is Zion, heaven on earth. We’re preparing the world for the second coming of the Savior.

Is he coming here? When?

"Yes. Because we’ve created