Amish Refuge

by Debby Giusti

  Abram sat in the front, the reins in his hands and his focus on the road.

  Was Miriam making a good decision? Or would she regret leaving the refuge of Abram’s home?

  * * *

  Abram’s neck felt like a porcupine with his nerve endings on alert. With each breath, his muscles tensed even more as he sensed a looming danger, although he did not know from where the danger would come.

  Maybe he was being foolish to leave the security of his home and travel to town. Out in the open, anything could happen.

  He flicked his gaze over his shoulder to Miriam. Her eyes were wide, her face drawn. She clasped her hands as if in prayer and looked like a typical Amish woman with her black cape and bonnet. Then her gaze turned to him and a bolt of current coursed through him, as palpable as the lightening that looked ready to cut through the darkening sky.

  Why did this woman—this Englisch woman—affect him so?

  He turned his focus back to the road and lifted the reins ever so slightly. Nellie always responded to the slightest movement of his wrists and today was no exception. The mare increased her pace, the sound of her hooves on the pavement as rhythmic as a heartbeat.

  Abram eyed the darkening sky. If only they could outrun the rain that seemed imminent. A harbinger of what would come?

  “The day is turning dark,” Miriam said from the rear. “What happens if it storms?”

  “Sometimes we find shelter. Today we will continue on.” Although, he knew Nellie could be skittish if lightning hit too close and thunder exploded around them. He would not share his concern with Miriam. From the tension he heard in her voice, she was worried enough.

  Approaching a bend in the road, Abram pulled back on the reins and slowed Nellie’s pace. He wanted to ensure nothing suspicious appeared ahead of them as they rounded the curve. His gut tightened when he spied police cars in the distance swarmed around a buggy. His pulse thumped a warning and his throat went dry.

  “What is it, Abram?” Miriam leaned forward. Her hand touched his shoulder.

  “A roadblock. There are a number of Petersville police cars and a deputy’s car from Willkommen. It appears they are searching a buggy.”

  “What can we do?” she asked, her voice faltering.

  He yanked on the reins. Nellie made a U-turn in the roadway and began retracing the route they had taken.

  “The Petersville police suspect you murdered your mother. We must return home.”

  Moments later a car engine sounded behind them. Abram glanced around the side of the buggy. A black sedan with a flashing light on the roof was racing toward them.

  “We are being followed. The car looks like the one I saw the night you escaped.”

  “It’s Serpent.”

  Once they rounded the bend, Abram steered the buggy to the edge of the road and pulled back on the reins.

  “You must hide.” He pointed to a thicket. “There, in the woods.”

  Miriam crawled to the front of the buggy and held Abram’s outstretched hand as she climbed to the pavement.

  “Hurry,” he warned. “Go deep into the woods. Find cover there.”

  Abram’s heart pounded as he watched her flee, knowing he had made a terrible mistake. They never should have left the security of his house.

  The black sedan raced around the bend and pulled to a stop. A man dressed in a navy shirt and khaki pants stepped to the pavement. He slapped Nellie’s flank as he approached Abram.

  “What is it you want?” Abram asked.

  The man wore a scarf around his neck. Although muscular, he had small eyes with drooping upper lids, flattened cheeks and a short, upturned nose. His mouse-brown hair was thin on top but long on the sides.

  “Why’d you turn your buggy around?” he demanded.

  Abram pointed to the sky. “The clouds are dark. Rain is in the air. I do not wish to drench my buggy, my horse or my clothing.”

  The man stepped closer and peered past Abram into the rear of the carriage. “Someone was with you?”

  “As you can see,” Abram tried to assure him, “I am alone.”

  The man turned his gaze to the forest. He took a step forward. “There. I see movement.” Just that fast, he ran toward the thicket exactly where Miriam had gone moments earlier.

  Abram hopped from the buggy and started to follow.

  A second car, this one from the Willkommen sheriff’s office, pulled up behind the black sedan.

  “Abram, stop.”

  He turned, spotting Ned Quigley, the newly hired sheriff’s deputy.

  “Did you see the guy driving the black sedan?” the deputy asked.

  Abram beckoned him forward. “He ran into the woods.”

  “Stay with your buggy,” Quigley said. “I’ll find Pearson.”

  Pearson. Evidently Serpent had a name.

  Abram ignored Quigley. He would never stay put when Miriam was in danger.

  He pushed through the bramble. The deputy followed close behind.

  Pulling in a ragged breath, Abram searched the forest. He had to find Miriam. He had to find her before Serpent did.

  * * *

  Miriam’s heart nearly exploded in her chest, seeing Serpent follow her into the woods.

  She couldn’t outrun him, but where could she hide?

  Her breath hitched and a roar filled her ears, nearly drowning out his footfalls as he trampled through the underbrush.

  Overhead thunder rolled and the forest darkened with the encroaching storm.

  A lump filled her throat and she struggled to keep the tears at bay. She couldn’t cry. Not now, not when she needed to outsmart the snake that was so heinous.

  More footsteps sounded. How many men were searching for her?

  Abram had been right. She should have stayed undercover at his farmhouse instead of throwing herself into harm’s way. More thunder rumbled as ominous as the situation she was in.

  A cluster of rocks was visible through the pines. Would they provide a hiding spot?

  Carefully she picked her way through the bramble, averting the twigs and branches that would snap if she stepped on them. Any sound would alert Serpent.

  She gulped for air, her lungs constricting with the tension that made her hands shake and her heart lurch.

  Careful though she tried to be, her foot snagged on a root. She toppled forward and caught herself just before she landed in a pile of dried leaves. Thankfully, at that very instant, a bolt of lightning crashed overhead and a blast of thunder covered the sound of her fall.

  Regaining her footing, she scurried behind the rocks, willing herself to meld into the outcrop of granite. The skies opened and rain fell in fat drops that pinged against the rocks, the trees and the floor of the forest.

  A deep guttural roar sounded, like a wild beast’s bellow. Serpent was standing only a few feet away on the other side of the rock, venting his anger. If only he would be deterred from coming closer.

  More footsteps. Her heart nearly ricocheted out of her chest. She flattened her hands and cheek against the granite trying to disappear into the stone.

  “I know you’re here.” Serpent’s voice, laced with fury.

  Could he hear her heart beating uncontrollably in her chest?

  “Pearson?” another voice called, deep and demanding.

  Serpent grumbled.

  “There he is.” Abram’s voice.

  Relief swept over Miriam.

  “You’re on a wild-goose chase,” the first man said as he drew closer.

  “I saw something,” Serpent replied.

  The deep-voiced man snickered. “You saw that skunk standing at your backside.”

  “What!” Serpent groaned.

  The putrid and unmistakable stench of a skunk’s spray f
illed the air.

  Leaves rustled wildly, followed by the sound of footsteps racing back to the roadway.

  “Looks like Pearson learned his lesson about chasing varmints in the woods.” The deeper voice chuckled.

  “He has other lessons to learn,” Abram said, his tone sharp and without the joviality of the other man’s. “Tell him to leave me alone.”

  “I’ll tell him,” the man answered. “Although I doubt it’ll do any good.”

  The voices became fainter, but even though the danger subsided, Miriam continued to tremble. Serpent had been too close.

  Abram would come to get her, she felt sure, when the men had left the area. She and Abram would return to the farmhouse where she would remain until the roadblock was lifted.

  But would Serpent continue to search for her? And if he found her, what would happen then?

  SIX

  The next morning Miriam stood at the kitchen window and peered at the mountain road, searching for any sign of a dark sedan. Yesterday Abram had returned to the woods and found her as soon as the two lawmen had left the area. Grateful though she was, Miriam was still concerned about her safety.

  She had risen early to help Abram’s sister. Apples needed to be peeled and pies baked for market, but the nervous churning in her stomach made her want to hide upstairs, away from the peering eyes of anyone who might pass by the farm.

  Emma seemed oblivious to Miriam’s anxiety and chatted amicably as she worked. Stepping away from the window, Miriam wrapped her arms around her waist, debating how to still her unease.

  “As I mentioned last night, I have many pies to bake,” Emma said as she placed a bowlful of apples on the table. “You will help me?”

  Longing to allay the tension that tightened her shoulders, Miriam reached for the apple peeler. Using her hands would be therapeutic and might take her mind off the man who wanted to do her harm. Plus, Emma and Abram had provided her safe lodging. The least she could do was to help with the baking.

  After peeling more than a dozen apples, Miriam heard Abram outside and, stepping to the sink for a drink of water, she peered from the window. “Does your brother ever stop working?”

  Emma scooped flour into her cupped hand and then dropped it into the mixing bowl. “A farm requires work. He has a shop in addition. Livestock to care for, crops to grow.”

  “And you make pies to sell at market,” Miriam said as she placed the now empty water glass next to the sink.

  “Our apples are plentiful and the Englisch enjoy my baked goods. It lets me help Abram with the expenses.”

  “You help him with many things, Emma.”

  She smiled meekly. “We work together. He needs someone to cook his meals and wash his clothes. To put up the vegetables from the garden.”

  “The jobs his wife did.”

  “That is right. Without a wife, he could not handle the farm in addition to the house. Plus, it brings comfort knowing that I am helping offset some of the expenses by selling my pies at market. Work is not a bad thing.”

  “No. Of course not. And you’re a good sister to care for him, yet surely you want a husband and a home of your own.”

  “Gott will provide when the time is right.”

  “You mean when Abram has found a wife.”

  Emma nodded sheepishly. “The problem is that he does not seem interested.”

  “Are you perhaps too accommodating?”

  Emma glanced at Miriam. “What are you saying?”

  “Abram doesn’t look for another wife because you take care of him.”

  The Amish woman blushed. “I do not think that is the case. He would take a wife for more reasons than to share the work.”

  Miriam had to smile. “Is there no Amish man who strikes your fancy?”

  “Most of those who are looking for a wife are younger.”

  “I can’t believe Abram is the only widower in your community.”

  “Actually, Isaac Beiler lives nearby. He owns a dairy. You can see his farm from the front windows. He has one son. A sweet boy named Daniel.”

  Miriam returned to the table and continued peeling apples. Emma made the piecrust and rolled it into perfect circles that fit the disposable pie pans.

  The women sliced the apples and added sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg and a pinch of salt before they filled the shells and covered the tart fruit with a latticed top crust.

  “You baked at home?” Emma asked, watching as Miriam fluted the edges of the shells.

  “My mother never baked, but I always enjoyed working in the kitchen.”

  Emma nodded with approval. “You seem to know what you are doing.”

  Later, when Emma pulled the last of the pies from the oven, Miriam inhaled the savory aroma that permeated the kitchen with a welcoming warmth of home and hearth, what Miriam had always longed for in her own house. Regrettably her mother’s sharp rhetoric, especially as the dementia changed her personality, had dispelled any feelings of welcome or warmth.

  Once she and Emma had cleaned the kitchen, the Amish woman pulled a bowl from the cupboard. “I will start cooking for the evening meal.”

  Miriam glanced at the cupboard, surprised by what she saw laying on top. “Is that a rifle?”

  “Yah. Abram hunts. Sometimes I go with him.”

  “I wouldn’t think—”

  Emma tilted her head. “We hunt for food, Miriam. Deer, rabbits, wild turkeys.”

  “Is the gun loaded?” Miriam asked.

  “What good would it be if it were not? Foxes and coyotes come after the livestock. We must keep them safe.”

  Miriam nodded. “From what I’ve seen, Emma, you work as hard as your brother.”

  Emma winked. “Some say the women work harder. We are up early to light the stove in the morning and the last to hug the children at night.”

  A knock at the door startled both of them.

  “Check first to see who’s there,” Miriam warned. Her pulse pounded with dread. What if Serpent had returned?

  Emma peered from the window and then rose on tiptoe to look down upon the person, evidently a very little person, standing on the back porch.

  Emma laughed. “It is Daniel.” She opened the door wide. “Let me help you with the milk.”

  An adorable boy, not more than five or six, stepped into the kitchen. He carried two large glass jugs that he placed on the floor just inside the door.

  “Daniel is our milk delivery man. He lives on the farm just across the way.”

  The dairy run by the widower. Miriam stepped closer, totally taken with the boy’s sparkling blue eyes and bowl-cut blond hair. His rosy cheeks and cautious smile instantly stole her heart.

  “Daniel brings us milk from his father’s dairy,” Emma explained.

  “You must be very strong,” Miriam enthused, “to carry such heavy jugs so far.”

  The boy’s chest puffed out and he nodded as if knowing the delivery job demanded not only brawn but also expertise and skill.

  “Daniel, you have come at the perfect time.” Emma pointed to the pies cooling on the sideboard. “Perhaps you would like a slice before you return home.”

  “Yah, I would like that. Danki.”

  The boy took a seat at the table and eagerly attacked the pie Emma placed in front of him. Miriam poured a glass of milk for the young lad and, before he lifted the glass to his lips, the door opened. Abram stepped inside, bringing with him the smell of fresh straw and lumber and the outdoors.

  He smiled seeing their guest. “Daniel, did you save some pie for me?”

  “Yah. Miriam will pour you a glass of milk, too.”

  She quickly cut a slice for Abram while he washed his hands and face. He returned to the kitchen with his hair neatly combed and his angular face scrubbed cle
an and ruddy from labor, and sat across from the boy. “I saw you helping your datt in the field. You did a fine job with the horses.”

  The boy beamed as he shoved another forkful of pie into his mouth. “I am a hard worker.”

  “I know you are. Your father relies on your help.”

  “He says we need a woman to help, too.”

  Miriam couldn’t help but notice Emma’s reaction. The color rose in her cheeks as she returned the cut pie to the sideboard.

  “Your father would make some woman a good husband,” Abram added, seemingly oblivious to his sister’s reaction.

  “He says I need a mother,” the boy added without hesitation.

  “And what do you say, Daniel?” Abram pressed.

  “I say Gott will provide.”

  Abram chuckled. “You have a good head on your shoulders. Perhaps you need a bit more pie.”

  “Datt waits for me. I must go.” He cleared his plate and fork from the table and handed them to Emma. “Danki.”

  She quickly wrapped a whole pie in a strip of cheesecloth and tied it with a knot. “Here, Daniel. Take this home for you and your father.”

  The boy’s eyes widened.

  “Carry it with two hands,” she instructed, pointing him toward the door. “I will watch you from the porch.”

  The boy’s expression clouded. “But you never watch me.”

  She glanced at Abram. “Today I will.”

  No doubt, Emma sensed Abram’s unease. Once Daniel said goodbye and he and Emma left the house, Miriam rinsed the dishes in the sink.

  “You have done a good job with the baking,” Abram said, eyeing the rows of pies cooling on the sideboard.

  She was surprised by his statement. “How do you know I was involved?”

  He rose and carried his plate and fork to the sink.

  “Because your face is streaked with flour.” He wiped his hands on a nearby towel and dropped the cloth onto the counter.

  Turning, he gently flicked white powder from her cheek. His touch was light and brief, and her skin drank in his nearness as if she were desperate for some sign of acceptance. She leaned closer, inhaling the clean scent on a man who enjoyed nature and the outdoors.