Amish Country Secret

by Lenora Worth

  The truck stayed on them, pulling up close then backing away. Samantha silently screamed for the police to hurry, hurry.

  “We’ll be home soon,” Isaac said. “They might follow us in.”

  Samantha would hop out of the buggy and surrender before she’d let that happen. She was about to do that when she looked back and saw flashing lights.

  “The police are here,” she said, her breath rushing out.

  The truck took off around the buggy, peeling rubber.

  Isaac again pulled over to let the patrol car by. It went after the truck, lights still flashing.

  After it was over, Isaac stopped inside their driveway. “You ladies all right?”

  “We are gut,” Rebecca said, reaching back for Samantha’s hand. “I’m thankful you had that phone and thought to use it.”

  “So am I,” Samantha replied, squeezing Rebecca’s hand.

  Soon they were pulling into the short lane that led up to a neat, trim white house with a big front porch and a small barn behind it. She couldn’t tell much in the dark, but part of a wooden fence had been mended. Probably damaged from the storm. The whole place was small and more enclosed, not like Micah’s huge sloping yard and wide fields beyond.

  Isaac turned to her. “I’ll pull the buggy up to the back porch and drop you two off.”

  “Be careful,” Rebecca cautioned her husband. “Someone could be hiding in the barn.”

  Isaac nodded. “I’m aware, wife. I’m aware.”

  Rebecca guided Samantha up the two steps to the small porch. “I think we’re safe. It’s dark and we covered you as much as possible and hid you in the back of the buggy. Who knows if that truck dropped someone off here. We’ll check the downstairs and I’ll show you the upstairs bedroom where you’ll be staying.” Patting Patch, she added, “Because you are a good watchdog, I’ll let you stay with your human, Mr. Patch.”

  Patch barked his appreciation.

  “This door is locked and intact,” Rebecca said after pushing on the sturdy back door. She turned up the propane-powered lamp to cast away the shadows.

  “Denke,” Samantha replied, touched at how matter-of-fact Rebecca and Isaac both were, considering the situation. “Patch does keep me calm.”

  “We have our bedroom here.” Rebecca grabbed a flashlight and pointed it down a short hallway to the left. “And here is the kitchen and living room.”

  She checked the front door and deemed it intact.

  Samantha took in the scent of lemon wax and lavender mixed with the country smells of fried chicken and earthy undertones from fresh vegetables.

  The house was neat and clean. Smaller than Micah’s and pretty in a minimalist, plain way. “It’s lovely, Rebecca,” she said.

  Rebecca smiled. “This house used to be full of boys. I miss hearing them stomping around at dawn, so it’ll be nice to have someone upstairs.”

  Isaac came in with her small suitcase, while she clung to her tote bag that held her laptop and other things.

  “Follow us,” Isaac said as he turned to the right of the living room and started upstairs. “There are two rooms and a small bathroom up here.”

  He moved ahead, turning up the propane lamps in each room and checking the armoires and crannies. “All clear up here.”

  Samantha knew the bathroom would be functional and that was all she needed. “This will be great,” she said, her words dragging.

  Isaac left Rebecca to help her settle in. “You come put your clothes in this chest,” Rebecca said, her hand on a tall chifforobe. “I’m going to make us some chamomile tea so I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  “Thanks,” Samantha said, realizing she’d used English. Old habits went both ways in her case.

  Rebecca turned at the door. “We’ll do everything we can for you, Samantha. Isaac sleeps with one eye open anyway since we raise chickens and sell the eggs. Predators do come calling.”

  Leon was a dangerous predator. She only wished she’d seen that before now.

  “I know you’ll do your best and I’m thankful,” Samantha replied. “Why would you want to risk it?”

  Rebecca took her hand, her brown eyes full of sincerity. “Martha loves you and that means we do, too. So we protect those we love.”

  Samantha heard the earnest truth in those words. Nodding, she held in her tears and swallowed.

  Rebecca patted her hand. “You can sleep well tonight.” Then she turned for the door.

  “I’ll be down soon,” Samantha said, too overcome for much more.

  After Rebecca left, Samantha sank down on the bed and stared into the darkness, Patch by her side. What should I do, Lord? How can I get out of this?

  Patch nudged her hand with his cold little nose. He knew her fears.

  The silence that followed brought her no answers. Tomorrow, she’d continue on the action she’d planned on taking when she arrived. The police knew everything now, at least. She’d go into town and try to reach Dorothea and find out more about Leon’s ex-wife. Her assistant could tell her what was going on, she hoped. She had to be careful and explain to Dorothea not to tell anyone where she was. Leon already knew, obviously. She didn’t want Dorothea to risk her life to help Samantha.

  That would be a hard task. Dorothea loved animals and she loved her job at the clinic. All of that had to change for a while.

  Because Samantha couldn’t go back there until she knew Leon was behind bars. And maybe not even then.

  * * *

  On her third morning there, Samantha woke early. Not that she’d slept very much. After dressing in a deep green dress that hit her midcalf, she grabbed her sneakers and tied the white laces. She’d gone into town with Isaac and Rebecca two days ago and she’d recharged her phone and laptop at the Campton Center.

  Nathan Craig had met her there and told her he was still trying to find out what he could on Leon Stanton.

  “He’s clean on paper,” Nathan reported. “I’ve got people going deep into his background. We’ll trip him up sooner or later. I’m thinking he has a shell corporation set up to hide the smuggling ring and he probably has several offshore accounts. So far I can’t find that information. The authorities are watching for him—just to question him since none of his underlings are talking.”

  “Did you find anything on the tow truck?”

  “Yes,” Nathan said. “It was a local from the next town over, about twenty miles from here. Someone paid cash to have the truck removed the morning after the storm. No record of who. The truck driver said he’d left it at a warehouse two counties over. I can’t find a trace of it.”

  “So we only know the wrecking company’s name, not who the truck belonged to?”

  “Nope. And the license plate was ripped off after the accident. So nothing much there.”

  “I tried to find out more about his wife,” Samantha admitted. “I was afraid to dig too deep. He’s probably destroying files and wiping out everything that shows his online footprint.”

  “You should stay off your computer and your phone,” Nathan cautioned. “If he’s savvy with electronics, he can easily find you.” Giving her a world-weary glance, he said, “Let me work on that angle.”

  “And what about my friend Dorothea Ramsey?” she asked.

  “She seems to have disappeared,” Nathan replied. “Your clinic is shut up tight. No animals remaining.”

  Samantha worried about Dorothea day and night and hoped she had moved what few animals they’d been housing to safe places. While Samantha had been in the private conference room at the center, she’d phoned her friend. Dorothea’s phone went straight to voice mail. Afraid to leave a message, Samantha had to give up.

  Now, Patch nudged at Samantha as she tied and pinned her apron. She tugged her hair into a passable bun and managed to get the white organdy kapp on without a mirror.

  “I kno
w. You need a break and some breakfast.”

  Her face clean and her teeth brushed, she went downstairs. The smell of bacon and fresh coffee greeted her.

  Patch barked a woof of appreciation that caused Rebecca to turn around and laugh. “Someone is hungry, ain’t so?”

  “Good morning,” Samantha said. “I need to take him for his morning break before he gets to eat.”

  Rebecca squinted. “For sure. The yard is available. And Samantha, Isaac is out taking care of the livestock, so be mindful.”

  So far, no one had bothered her here. She worried about Micah and the twins. Were they okay? Would he bring them by to visit?

  “I will, denke,” she replied to Rebecca.

  The sweet couple had mothered her and chatted with her and shown her how to help around the house. She couldn’t ask for a better sanctuary, but she missed seeing the twins playing with Patch and she missed cooking and cleaning the kitchen with Micah.

  She especially missed Micah.

  What was wrong with her?

  Lord, my life is in a mess and I don’t know how to get out of it. I could use some guidance.

  Samantha longed for a strong cup of that coffee, knowing Patch couldn’t wait. She put him on his leash and opened the back door. Standing on the porch, she searched the entire backyard and saw the barn doors thrown open.

  The world looked normal. The huge oak tree that shaded the house stood solid and steady. A pleasant summer breeze pushed at her bonnet strings and stirred at her skirt. This Amish uniform wasn’t much different from the scrubs and lab coat she’d worn on a daily basis for so long.

  Checking the trees along the land break, she was thankful that this farm had very few woods close by. She looked to the east, thinking that small copse of trees would lead to her grandmother’s house. That little forest was the only cover all around. Not many places for anyone to hide.

  “Go ahead, Patch,” she told the furry little dog.

  Patch gave her a thankful look, his dark eyes trusting as he scurried in front of her. After he’d sniffed and taken care of business, he lifted his black nose in the air, his nostrils flaring. Then he started barking and tugged at the leash.

  He wanted Samantha to follow him to the chicken house behind the barn.

  TWELVE

  Micah missed her already. How could he have gotten so used to having Samantha in his home?

  He missed how she helped with breakfast every morning and insisted on clearing the dishes away at every meal. He missed her good home cooking and how she made the washed clothes seem so much fresher.

  “Micah?”

  He turned from staring out the window to find Emmie standing there in her muck boots. “Ja?”

  “The barn door was open,” she said, her green eyes shimmering with fear. “I was afraid to go inside.”

  Micah went into action. “Where is your bruder?”

  Emmie glanced around. “I don’t know. I thought he was with you.”

  Micah took off toward the barn. “Stay here. Stay inside, Emmie.”

  “But—”

  “Stay here. I mean it.”

  He was out the door and hurtling toward the barn when he saw Jed coming around from the back. Breathing a sigh of relief, Micah caught up with him.

  “What’s wrong?” Jed asked, his face bright with sweat, his movements twitching and unsure.

  “Emmie couldn’t find you,” Micah explained. “Have you been in the barn?”

  “Not yet,” Jed admitted. “I heard a noise out back and I came to see. I was coming to get you to show you.”

  Micah followed Jed, dread in each step.

  “Our hogs got out. I can’t find a one of ’em.” Jed pointed to the pig corral.

  Micah ran to the open gate of the pen that stood out away from the barn. He’d placed it back near the trees for a reason. The pigs he’d bought to purposely raise for meat and to sell at market were now scattered to the wind. He’d have to go into the woods to round them up. Normally, he’d take Jed with him.

  He couldn’t do that now. This had been deliberate.

  Emmie! He’d left her in the house.

  “Jed, come with me,” he called. “Hurry.”

  They both took off toward the house.

  “Emmie?” Micah’s voice echoed through his ears, but it seemed only a whisper to him. He called out again as he rushed inside the house.

  * * *

  Samantha followed Patch inside the small, clean barn. “Isaac?”

  She heard a moan coming from the tack room. Patch took off, barking and prancing back to her to make sure she would follow.

  Samantha hurled herself inside the tiny room and gasped when she saw Isaac on the floor. “Isaac?”

  She dropped down to touch his arm. “What happened?”

  Isaac opened his eyes and moaned again. “Someone hit me over the head,” he said, pointing toward the back of the barn. “I tripped him before I went down and he fell against that old wheel lying over near the back door. Got up and ran before I could get to him.”

  Samantha helped Isaac sit up, then she checked his pulse and his head. “You have a small knot on the back of your head,” she said, relief washing through her. “Are you dizzy?”

  “Neh, not too much,” Isaac said, squinting. “I think the man got up and left when he heard Patch barking. That little dog always comes through.”

  Samantha wanted to run out the back and check, but she needed to get Isaac up to the house. “Can you stand?”

  He nodded. “I’ve been through worse,” he said on a chuckle. “This ol’ head is hard and stubborn.”

  She found his hat and shook the grime off. “Let’s get that doctored and covered before you put your hat back on.”

  Slowly, she helped him to his feet and they walked together out of the barn. When they reached the front, Samantha saw Rebecca standing on the porch.

  Fear in her eyes, Rebecca headed toward them. “What’s happened?”

  Samantha explained as she helped Isaac up to a chair on the porch. “It had to be someone here to scare me.”

  “I don’t know,” Isaac said. “Could be those rumspringa teens making mischief. The teens I hire to help out now and then never have liked Old Henry.”

  “Did you see one of them?” Rebecca asked, her tone shouting anger. “Did that ornery bull butt someone?”

  “I got a glimpse. They weren’t Amish. A man for sure, in different clothes. Still it could have been one of those boys messing with me. I’m surprised Old Henry didn’t finish ’em off.”

  Old Henry was the mean bull he’d mentioned to Samantha when she’d first arrived. They’d also talked about some of the local Amish teens who liked to act out and cause trouble. Samantha figured the people who were after her had tried to harm Isaac so they could sneak to the house and find her.

  Rebecca scoffed. “Why would a teenager hit you over the head? Teenagers are reckless, but I’ve never known them to hit an elder over the head.”

  Isaac shrugged and winced. “They also might want to steal some equipment to barter for beer and such.”

  “No matter, right now I’m more concerned with you.”

  Rebecca fussed over him while he kept pushing her away. “I’ll be fine.”

  Samantha helped him into the house, then sat down and stared at her hands while Rebecca cleaned and bandaged his wound.

  “Is he okay?” she asked later, guilt coloring her words.

  “He has a hard head,” Rebecca replied. “But this is worrisome.”

  “The man wasn’t wearing Amish clothes,” Samantha said. “It had to have been someone looking for me.”

  “It does seem suspicious,” Rebecca said. “I never thought they’d find you here.”

  “I can’t keep hiding out,” Samantha replied, determined to end this one way or
another. “At least not here. They know I’m in this community. I need to leave and this time I’m going to do what I set out to do.”

  “Honey, don’t make any rash decisions,” Rebecca said.

  Samantha stood and starting pacing. “No, they’re doing these things on purpose—to scare me, to frighten the whole community. They could have easily come into your house or Micah’s by now and killed me.” She stopped and stared out the window, the pretty summer weather making her wish she could be safe and out there living her life. “He wants to antagonize me to come out of hiding, Rebecca.”

  “Why?” Rebecca asked, her usually serene expression changing into a worried frown.

  Samantha held her hands together. “Because he wants me alive,” she said. “He wants me alive so he can torment me and make me feel guilty before he kills me.”

  * * *

  “Emmie?”

  Micah burst through the back door, calling her name while his imagination created horrific scenes. Jed followed, the door clashing behind them.

  Emmie came running out of the mudroom, fear in her voice. “What’s wrong?”

  Micah ran and lifted her in the air. His heart beat so fast, he had to take a long breath. “I was worried. I left you alone.”

  She gave him a puzzled stare. “I’m not a baby, you know.”

  Micah settled her back on the floor and touched a hand to her hair. “No, you’re for sure not a baby. We have to be careful these days.”

  Emmie’s gaze moved to the kitchen. “We have a visitor,” she said, giving Micah a warning with her eyes. Turning, she said, “Matthew brought a casserole from his mom.”

  Matthew Kemp stood in the kitchen holding a casserole dish, a dare in his eyes.

  “What are you doing here?” Micah asked, his fears becoming real now.

  “Gut mariye,” Matthew said, a twisted smile on his face. “I called out and Emmie let me in.”

  Micah wanted to be relieved, but Matthew should have found him before coming inside his house. “Denke,” he said, taking the dish. “That was nice of your mamm.”