Amish Refuge

by Debby Giusti

  “What about the roadblock?” Abram asked. “Has it not been successful?”

  “That was Chief Tucker’s idea.”

  “The chief of police from Petersville?”

  Curtis nodded. “He’s convinced the killer is still in the area and wants to do a house-by-house search.”

  Abram bristled. He placed his cup on the table and pulled in a breath before he spoke. “Even I know that a warrant would be required prior to a house search. Does the sheriff think of himself as above the law? From what I have heard, it sounds as if the man has a high opinion of himself.”

  “You don’t understand, Abram.”

  “I understand enough to know he will not find welcome here.”

  “He’s going to search all the Amish homes,” Curtis said.

  “Doors will not open to the chief or his men.”

  “Here’s the thing, Abram. A killer’s on the loose. You folks are in danger. I’m trying to tell as many of the Amish as I can.”

  “This supposed killer is the woman whose photograph was on your phone? You think she killed her mother?”

  “That’s right. But without transportation, she would be hard-pressed to leave the area.”

  “Have you forgotten the bus that comes to Willkommen? She could have gone north to Knoxville or south to Atlanta.”

  “Except the clerk at the bus station hasn’t seen anyone matching her description. He knows most folks in town.”

  “But he does not know all the Amish.”

  Curtis nodded. “You’re right, although I don’t think the killer is Amish.”

  “Someone could have driven her,” Abram suggested, hoping the search would shift to some other portion of the state.

  “That’s a possibility, if she knew someone in the area.”

  “Has anyone seen her?”

  “Not a soul.” The deputy took a long swig of coffee and then wiped his lips and sniffed. “I’m sure you’ve kept your eyes open.”

  “I have seen a surly man with a scarf around his neck.”

  Idler smirked. “You’re talking about Pete Pearson. He can be pushy to say the least.”

  “I do not want him prowling around my property. If you see him, tell him to leave the Amish alone. We do not need his protection or his accusations, and we do not want to face a roadblock the days we go to market.”

  Curtis held up his hand. “The roadblock ends tonight. The Petersville mayor refuses to pay any more overtime to his police officers. However, squad cars will be patrolling the roadways and officers will be on the lookout for the woman on the run.”

  “Are you searching for the right person?” Abram asked.

  “We’ve got one lead, Abram, and it seems sound. Keep your eyes open and let me know if you see anything suspect.”

  The deputy rose and handed Emma his empty cup. “Appreciate the coffee.”

  A floorboard creaked overhead. The deputy glanced up. “Someone visiting?”

  Emma smiled sweetly. “The mice have been bad this year. We brought one of our cats inside. She is a good mouser who is growing fat and causing the floors to creak when she leaps from the bed.”

  “Only rodent I like,” the deputy snarled, “is a dead one.”

  He nodded to Abram. “See you in town.”

  Emma frowned at Abram when the deputy was not looking.

  Abram raised his brow at her. “I’m sure Deputy Idler would enjoy an Amish dessert with his supper this evening. Especially after he was so considerate to warn us, Emma. Didn’t you mention having an extra apple pie?”

  Thankfully her face melted into a smile. “The pie is in the pantry. I’ll wrap it in cheesecloth for protection from the rain.”

  The deputy slapped Abram’s shoulder. “Thanks for your thoughtfulness.”

  Emma hurried to the pantry and returned with the pie.

  “You folks stay safe.” The deputy held the pie close to his chest and scurried to his car.

  Abram closed and locked the kitchen door.

  “Can we trust him, Abram?” Emma asked, her face pensive, her arms wrapped protectively around her waist.

  “We can trust him as much as we can trust anyone at this point. The pie will keep his mind off the creaking floorboards and the cat we never allow in the house.”

  As the car pulled out of the drive and turned onto the main road, heading back to town, Bear started to bark.

  Abram shook his head at his lazy watchdog’s poor timing before he called up the stairs to Miriam. “The deputy is gone.”

  She came to the top of the landing. “I can’t stay here, Abram. I have to leave. I’m a danger to you and Emma.”

  “The roadblock ends tonight. We will go to Willkommen in the morning. There we will find more information. Perhaps we will find your aunt.”

  “I need a computer to email my sister.”

  Abram nodded. “We will find that, as well. But tonight you must remain here. You are safe with me.”

  At least, he hoped she was.

  * * *

  The day seemed to last forever or perhaps it was Miriam’s unease that made time tick by so slowly.

  She’d started the morning nearly falling into a raging river. Moments later she’d eluded Serpent, thanks to Abram’s quick reaction. The Willkommen deputy’s visit some hours later, along with the stormy sky and intermittent rain, had fueled her anxiety even more. Now with the lunch meal over and the dishes washed and put away in the cupboard, she wondered how to endure the rest of the afternoon.

  Emma seemed as flustered as Miriam felt.

  “I’m worried about Daniel,” the Amish woman said as she headed once again to the front window and peered in the direction of the Beiler dairy. “He usually brings milk soon after our middaagesse.”

  Miriam came up behind her and patted her arm.

  Emma smiled weakly. “I should have said our noon meal. Why has he not yet brought the day’s milk?”

  “Perhaps his delay is due to the storm,” Miriam offered.

  “Suppose the boy is sick? He does not have a Mamm, and Isaac must tend to his dairy cows. The child would be alone, perhaps feverish—”

  “You’re jumping far ahead of things, Emma. I’m sure there’s an explanation for why he’s late that has nothing to do with illness.”

  Emma nodded and slowly turned away from the window. “Still I worry. The child is always punctual. He will start school in the next session. I will miss seeing him each day.”

  “Isaac will deliver the milk instead,” Miriam added with a wink.

  “You have been with us a short time, Miriam Miller, yet you see into the heart of things.”

  Miriam smiled. “I see your heart that is filled with love for Isaac.”

  Emma shook her head as if wanting no such talk in spite of the twinkle in her eyes. “I will bake cookies. That is one way to attract Daniel. Even with this distance between the two farms, he is drawn to the sweet smell of my baking.”

  As Emma hurried into the kitchen, Miriam returned to the window. She wouldn’t tell Emma, but she, too, worried about the young boy on the road with Serpent making his presence known so frequently. As much as she wanted to believe the hateful man would not bother a child, there was nothing she would put past Serpent.

  A chill settled over her and she shivered. Rubbing her arms, she stared into the distance wondering where the snake was hiding. He was out there somewhere, watching and waiting.

  Reluctantly she joined Emma in the kitchen, but her heart wasn’t in the baking. She peered through the kitchen window to where Abram mended the fence that cordoned off a distant pasture. A cold wind blew from the north and caused his shirt to billow in the gusty air. He worked without his coat and with only his wide-brimmed hat to shield his face from the buffetin
g rain.

  Before the first batch of cookies went into the oven, Emma glanced at the kitchen clock and headed once again to the front room. Gazing through the window, she groaned.

  “The rain has eased, which is good, and I see Daniel, but he is carrying three bottles of milk instead of the regular two. The load is much too heavy.” She tsked and shook her head. “The boy thinks he is older than his years.”

  Miriam peered around Emma. “He means to please and works hard like his father.”

  “Yah, but his father does not carry more than he can haul. I fear Daniel will drop one of the bottles, if not all three.”

  Turning her gaze to the mountain road, Miriam’s heart thumped a warning. “Emma, look, it’s the black sedan.”

  Serpent was heading down the hill.

  Emma’s hand drew to her throat. “I must help Daniel and bring him inside.”

  She pushed past Miriam, but with the rain-slick roadway and her labored gait, Emma would never get to the boy in time.

  “Stay in the house,” Miriam insisted. “I’ll go instead.”

  “But Serpent—”

  “Daniel and I will be safely inside before he could see us.”

  Without waiting for Emma to express any more of her concerns, Miriam pushed open the front door. She unlatched the gate and ran to where the young boy stood, trying to readjust his heavy load.

  “Daniel, let me help you.”

  “I can do it,” he insisted, clutching two of the bottles close to his chest. The third bottle teetered in his outstretched hand and seemed ready to slip through his fingers.

  “Of course you can, but we must hurry. Emma is baking cookies. They are almost done.”

  She glanced at the sedan. Her pulse raced, seeing the car accelerate even faster down the hill. “Hurry, Daniel.”

  Taking two of the milk bottles in her right hand, she grabbed the boy’s free hand with her left and hurried him along.

  Looking over her shoulder, her heart stopped. The car was close. So very close.

  Dropping the bottles, she lifted Daniel into her arms.

  “Die millich—!” he cried.

  “We must hurry, Daniel.” She tucked his head into the crook of her neck to protect the child and ran for the house.

  Tires screeched. A car door slammed. “Stop.”

  She wouldn’t stop. She had to get the child to safety. Racing up the steps of the porch, she gasped with relief as the door opened. Miriam clutched the boy even closer to her heart and sprinted into the house.

  Emma slammed and locked the door behind them. Taking Daniel into her arms, she kissed his cheek and pulled him into her embrace. “Oh, Daniel, we were so worried about you.”

  “Die millich...the bottles broke.” Tears welled up in the boy’s eyes.

  “Yes, but you are safe.”

  Serpent climbed the porch steps and pounded on the door.

  Emma scooted the boy into the kitchen. “Hide, Daniel, in the pantry.”

  “He frightens me.” Daniel’s voice was tight with fear.

  “I know, but you must be very brave.” Emma hurried him into the hiding place. “We will not let the man hurt you.”

  Miriam reached on top of the cupboard and grabbed Abram’s rifle. Returning to the living area, she stood behind the door next to Emma and nodded.

  Gripping the knob, Emma opened the door ever so slightly. “Why are you here?”

  “I saw a woman with a boy.”

  “I was that woman,” Emma insisted, her voice calm but firm. “My brother told you to leave us alone.”

  Miriam’s heart thumped. She nudged Emma and shoved the rifle into her hand.

  “I don’t care what Zook said.” Serpent gloated.

  Emma raised the rifle. “You should listen to Abram.”

  A dog barked.

  Miriam glanced through the narrow crack on the hinged side of the door. Bear ran to the front of the house and scurried up the porch to snap at Serpent’s feet.

  “Get that hound away from me.”

  “Pearson!” Abram appeared, his face twisted in anger. “Why do you trespass on my land?”

  “You can’t scare me, Zook.”

  Bear bared his teeth and lunged. Serpent tried to kick the dog, but Bear eluded the blow.

  “Leave my property and don’t come back,” Abram’s voice was deep and menacing.

  “You’ll pay for this, Zook.” Serpent stumbled down the steps and raced to his car.

  Emma closed the door and grabbed Miriam’s hand. Tears pooled in Emma’s eyes. “When will it end?”

  Miriam knew. It would end when she was out of Emma and Abram’s home. Only then would the peace of their Amish life return.

  FOURTEEN

  The rain intensified through the night. The ping of the fat droplets against the tin roof kept Miriam from sleeping. She walked to the window and stared into the darkness and shivered, knowing who could be out there waiting and watching.

  Closing the curtains, she lit the gas lamp and opened the trunk. The dress she had worn today was spattered with mud. Tomorrow she would wear something fresh to town. The smell of cedar from the inlaid wood brought comfort.

  She peered at the inscription, handwritten in black ink, on the inside. To Rebecca. With my love. From your husband, Abram.

  Miriam’s heart constricted. Not with jealousy or envy, but because of her own desire to have someone love her as completely as Abram had loved his wife.

  Tears burned her eyes, knowing the pain of loss he must have felt when Rebecca and their child had died. He continued to carry that pain, Miriam felt sure. The look of longing in his eyes revealed the depth of his grief, even now.

  Wiping her hand across her cheek, she inhaled deeply to quell the onslaught of sadness that clung to her as surely as the scent of cedar.

  Miriam pulled a dress from the trunk. This one in a deep royal blue that almost seemed too rich for an Amish woman. She shook out the fabric and held the bodice against her, then looked down at the skirt that billowed around her legs in a graceful flow that made her feel totally feminine.

  She twirled once. Yards of fabric swirled around her legs and, in spite of her heavy heart, she smiled, feeling as graceful as a fairy princess with the skirt swishing back and forth. She almost laughed, until the light flickered, drawing her back to the moment. She wasn’t Abram’s wife. She was a stranger who had barged into his life. A stranger who had dreamed thoughts of what could have been—of love and marriage, a home and family—all of which Miriam would never know.

  A man’s love and affection were not in her future. She was her mother’s daughter, as much as she wanted to break the generational ties. Yet she would not walk the same path as her mother, who had needed a man to validate her life.

  Miriam didn’t need a man.

  But you want one, her mind taunted. An Amish man who is bigger than life.

  A door opened into the hallway. Footsteps sounded then stopped outside her door. Miriam’s heart lunged. She clasped the dress to her heart, wanting to hide it from sight as if Abram could see through the closed bedroom door and know her thoughts.

  She held her breath and looked at the gas lamp. Abram would see the light spilling into the dark hallway from under the bedroom door, and he would know she was awake.

  Her right hand raised to cover her mouth as she slowly exhaled the air that burned her lungs, half expecting him to open the door and demand to know why she was holding his wife’s dress.

  Again she was overcome with regret. She never should have infringed on Abram’s life.

  Another footfall and another. Abram passed her door and descended the stairs to the first floor.

  Daring not move for fear a floorboard would squeak, she listened to the trail of hi
s footsteps through the house. The back door creaked open and then closed.

  She extinguished the light, moved to the window and pulled back the curtain. The rain continued to fall. Overhead the moon peered between billowing clouds to illuminate the yard ever so slightly.

  Miriam could see Abram walk to the woodshop. He held something in his hand. A chill settled over her. He held the rifle.

  Stamping his feet, he entered the shop and then pulled the door closed behind him.

  Without his presence in the house, she felt an instant dread. Again her eyes searched the land around the house and outbuildings.

  A shadow moved near the woodshed.

  Her heart lurched.

  Had she imagined the movement or was someone hiding in the darkness?

  * * *

  Sleep had eluded Abram. He had been restless and unable to calm his mind or his heart. Needing to busy himself, he had come to the workshop, planning to sand a table he was making for Emma.

  That he had brought the rifle surprised him somewhat, yet his sister had used it this afternoon when Serpent had chased after Miriam and Daniel. Abram had been almost too late returning to the house. Thankfully, Serpent had driven away. Next time, he might not be so easily deterred.

  For a long moment Abram stared into the dark recesses of the woodshop and sensed the intruder’s presence before he heard the crack of a broken twig outside. Peering through the window, he saw the shadowy figure slink around the side of the woodshed.

  A stocky man. Maybe six feet tall. He could not see his face, but he knew it was Serpent.

  The man continued along the edge of the building then stopped and peered up at the bedroom windows. Abram angled his gaze toward the house, relieved that the light in Miriam’s room had been extinguished. Just so she would remain inside.

  Abram reached for the rifle. Holding it in one hand, he slowly opened the door to his shop and stepped into the cool night air. The rain had slackened to a light drizzle. He peered through the mist and angled his head, listening for a footfall to identify Serpent’s whereabouts.

  A twig snapped.

  Abram turned to see the man dart into the clearing.

  The back door opened.