A Deadly Shaker Spring Read Free

softly on the dirt floor. She heard the noise again—a wheezing sound, somewhere between a snore and a whimper. It seemed to come from behind a stack of hay bales.
    Rose’s first impulse was to run out of the barn, back into the spring sunshine. But she stopped herself. Maybe this was a derelict, hungry, tired, perhaps injured. She couldn’t just leave him.
    The hay bales were taller than she was. With one shaking hand, she steadied herself against the coarse wall of hay and edged around toward the sound. She peeked behind the bales. The Society’s guard dog, Freddie, lay on the dirt floor, his legs splayed unnaturally. His eyes remained closed as he whimpered again.
    Whimpering herself now, Rose sank to her knees and cradled Freddie’s mottled face and floppy ears in her lap.
    â€œFreddie, come on, boy,” she urged. “Wake up. Let me know you’re all right. What has happened to you?”
    Freddie’s limp body twitched. He showed no other sign of having heard the pleading of one of his favorite mistresses.
    Rose knew she could carry thirty-five pounds, even of awkward, gangly weight. Getting Freddie off the ground and herself upright presented more of a challenge. She eased her arms under his body and pulled him onto her knees. She stumbled to her feet, clutching the dog about his middle while his legs flopped helplessly.
    Whispering words of comfort to the unconscious animal, Rose cut across the grass to the Infirmary. She reached the doors just as Sister Josie Trent, North Homage’s only nurse, returned from breakfast.
    â€œHe’s been drugged,” Josie concluded after a gentle examination. The Infirmary Sister had just turned eighty, but her fingers were as quick and sure as ever.
    â€œThat’s my guess, anyway. I’m not a veterinarian. What sort of cruel nature would do such a thing?” Josie’s normally cheerful many-chinned face flushed with anger. “I’m hopeful he’ll come out of it, but nothing is certain. He is in God’s hands.”
    Freddie’s breathing had quieted somewhat. He lay on a long wooden examining table surrounded by shelves filled with bottles and boxes. Freshly packedround tins of Shaker herbs were stacked in precarious columns on a small oak desk.
    â€œCould the drug have been an herb, do you think?” Rose asked.
    â€œWhat you mean is, could one of us have done such a thing? I certainly hope not, but I can’t really say. Poor Freddie is only a small creature compared to us. And his physiology is different. Who’s to say how a large dose of valerian might affect him, for instance.” Josie stroked the dog’s long, silky ears. He didn’t respond.
    â€œI can’t believe a Believer would want to do this, or feel it necessary to use such a large dose. I’ll keep him here and watch over him. Good heavens, what can that be?” Banging and clattering in the outer waiting room sent Josie bouncing for the door, Rose close behind.
    The waiting room seemed crammed with Believers, all chattering at once and swirling like leaves in the spring wind. Samuel and another of the brethren whipped through the anxious crowd into one of the sickrooms. Between them, they carried Sarah. Sister Charlotte scampered behind them, supporting Sarah’s lolling head. Once pure white, Sarah’s cotton indoor cap was streaked with blood, as was the triangular kerchief which covered Charlotte’s shoulders and crisscrossed over the front of her bodice.
    Her rescuers eased Sarah onto a narrow bed. With deft, plump fingers, Josie removed the cap. The bleeding began again as she pulled the fabric away from the scalp.
    â€œFirst off,” Josie said, “she’ll need stitching up. Charlotte, fetch my bag from the corner, would you?Thanks.” She doused a sewing needle in alcohol and began to stitch quickly. Most of the Believers who had crowded in the room averted their eyes. They were hard but