“I have no idea,” the captain confessed.
A few hymns were sung, each with increasing fervor. A lot of the Shakers swayed as they sang. Some raised their arms and cried out to their Maker. By the sixth song, all of them were swaying and stamping their feet. Then, as if with one mind, the Shakers began to move. They formed into concentric circles. In the center was a small circle of women, then a circle of men, then another circle of women, and last another circle of men. As they moved they raised their voices to the heavens and danced in short, rhythmic steps while waving their arms aloft. Many cried out as if in the grip of ecstasy.
Round and round the circles went, the inner clockwise, the next counterclockwise, the third again clockwise, the last as the second. They sang and they danced and they swayed. A spontaneous trembling broke out and spread from worshiper to worshiper so that soon all of them were shaking as they danced, quaking from head to toe, their faces aglow with spiritual rapture. The longer it went on, the more violent their shaking became. Halleluiahs and other cries pierced the air.
“I get it now,” Jeremiah Blunt said.
So did Nate. The way they were quaking and trembling: exactly as the ground did. Arthur Lexington had taken it into his head that it was a sign. To Lexington and his followers, the Valley of Skulls was a special place where the earth under their feet moved as they did.
Nate gazed at a bubbling hot spring and at the steam rising from another, and was troubled.
On and on it went, the dancing and singing and shaking, ever more intense, ever more feverish. Suddenly a woman burst out shouting in a strange tongue. A man did the same but in a different tongue. Then others, all of them with their eyes closed and shaking violently, many of the women and a few of the men with tears trickling down their cheeks.
“It is a wonderment,” Jeremiah Blunt declared.
Presently a woman collapsed, overcome by her ardor. Several others did likewise.
The fervor was at its peak.
Then, like a clock winding down, it began to slow. The songs became slower. The dancers slowed. The trembling and shaking slowed until finally the Shakers came to an exhausted stop. Drained yet beaming with joy, the women and the men again formed into their respective rows and turned sweat-stained faces to their leader, who had stepped out of the group to address them.
“Once again we have affirmed our love and our faith. Once again we have felt the Lord among us and in us. Now let each of us rest from our labors and partake of one another’s company as equals and brethren.”
The service came to an end. There was no hugging, no kissing, not even a shaking of hands. They looked on one another and smiled and spoke in soft voices.
Lexington came over to the freighters, Sister Amelia in his wake. “Well, gentlemen. What did you think of our service?”
“You are an amazing people,” Jeremiah Blunt said.
“We do the Lord’s will, nothing more,” Lexington told him.
Sister Amelia stepped up. “If any of you have been moved to join us, we would gladly welcome you.”
Several of the freighters laughed and Haskell said, “Ma’am, we thank you for the offer. But me, I’m a married man, and I couldn’t live without that impurity you’re not so fond of.”
“Me, either,” another man declared. “I buy it real regular when I’m in St. Louis.”
More laughter caused Jeremiah Blunt to swivel and say, “That will be enough.”
The freighters fell silent.
Arthur Lexington turned to Nate. “How about you, Brother King? Does our style of life appeal to you?”
“I’m married, too,” Nate said.
“Marriage is no obstacle. Bring your wife, if you want. Of course, the two of you could never have relations again, but you’re more than welcome.”
“Marriage without sex?” a freighter blurted. “Where’s the point in that?”
More laughter caused Blunt to say sternly, “When I say enough, I mean enough.” He smiled at Lexington. “I’m afraid my men are too fond of their earthly ways to give them up.”
“Suit yourselves, but we are always open to new members. Keep that in mind should any of you change yours.”
The elder and his shadow went to mingle with the rest.
Blunt leaned toward Nate. “Are you as concerned by this as I am?”
“By the ceremony?”
“No. By this,” Blunt said, and smacked the ground with his calloused hand. “By the damnable tremors.”
As if that were a stage cue, the ground under them shook. Not hard, but enough that the horses in the corral pranced and whinnied and some of the oxen bellowed in fear.
“See?” Blunt said.
Lexington raised his arms aloft. “Did you feel that, Brother and Sisters? It was the Lord affirming our faith. Let us give thanks and praise that we have been led to this holy place.”
“Holy, hell,” a freighter scoffed.
Nate held his own counsel. According to the Indian legends, the ground in the valley had been shaking since any of the tribes could remember. The Shakers were welcome to call it the handiwork of the Lord if they wanted, but in his opinion shaking ground was, well, shaking ground.
“We’ll spend tomorrow unloading,” Jeremiah Blunt said. “I expect to leave by ten the next morning. Are you coming with us as far as Bent’s Fort?”
Nate hadn’t given it any thought, but he did dearly want to get home and be with his family. “I might go with you a short way and then strike off through the mountains.”
The Shakers were dispersing. At Blunt’s command, his men rose and walked toward the freight wagons, now parked near the Conestogas of their hosts.
Nate found himself alone, but he didn’t stay that way. He sensed rather than heard someone come up behind him and went to turn.
“Don’t look back,” Maklin’s voice came over his shoulder. “Wait until I head for the corral so they won’t think I’ve spotted them and told you. Then come join me.”
“They?” Nate said.
“The south side of the valley, the high cliff with five caves. Look at the very top, but don’t let on that’s what you’re doing.”
When the Texan didn’t say more, Nate said, “Maklin?” but got no answer. Rising, he shifted enough to see him walking off. Nate stretched and pretended he had a cramp in his leg and raised it up and down a few times. As he did, he peered from under his eyebrows at the cliff Maklin mentioned. The cave mouths were awash in the red glow of the setting sun. The cliff itself was slate gray.
Nate saw nothing out of the ordinary. Not at first. He had to flick his gaze back and forth several times before he saw what Maklin had seen. He couldn’t make out much detail at that distance but he didn’t need to. He made for the corral.
Maklin was saddling his horse, his back to the cliff. “It will be dark before we get up there.”
“The dark will work against them as much as it does us.” Nate nodded toward a cluster of Shakers. “What puzzles me is you putting your life at risk for people you don’t much care for.”
“We have to do something or it will be my wife all over again, only worse. No one deserves that.”
Nate was careful not to move with undue haste as he slid a bridle on the bay and then his blanket and saddle.
“I can ask Blunt for more men to go with us,” Maklin suggested.
Shaking his head, Nate said, “The more who ride out, the more suspicious they’ll be. Just the two of us, they might think we’re going off to hunt.” He led the bay from the corral, swung up, and poked his heels. No one called out to them. No one wondered where they were going.
“We’ll have to do this smart,” Maklin said as they neared the bend.
“I never do anything any other way if I can help it,” Nate replied. Too often, though, what he took for smart turned out to be less so.
Once out of the Valley of Skulls, they rode straight on into the forest. As soon the canopy hid them, Nate reined to the south. He rode as fast as the terrain and the gathering twilight permitted.
