Dark Crossings

by Marta Perry

  “That’s Dick,” she said, referring to one of the big Belgian draft horses her father used for plowing. “He seems too close. He must be out.” She turned toward the living room. “Daad, Dick is out. Somebody must not have latched the stall door.”

  A squabble broke out immediately between Sarah’s younger sisters, each blaming the other.

  “I will komm,” her father said.

  But Sarah was already snatching a shawl from the hooks in the back hall. “Don’t bother. I’ll get him.”

  “Let me,” Jacob began, but she shook her head.

  “Too many people coming at him will spook him for sure.” Everyone in the township knew that Dick didn’t have the placid disposition of most Belgians. “I can do it.”

  Jacob hid a smile. Sometimes he thought “I can do it” must have been Sarah’s first sentence.

  “I will just step out on the porch in case you need me,” he said, intending to pacify her.

  Sarah was already out the back door, and he followed her, pausing for a moment to let his eyes get accustomed to the dark. Stars clustered thick in the sky, but it was the dark of the moon, so there was little illumination. Sarah had gone without a flashlight, and he reached back inside the door to grasp one from the hook in case they needed it.

  He stepped off the porch, hoping she didn’t take it into her head to turn around and see him disobeying her instructions. She’d have a word or two to say about that, for sure.

  His gaze picked out the white of Sarah’s kapp as his night vision cleared. Her dark dress and black shawl made the rest of her invisible.

  There was another whinny, this time closer still. He frowned. Dick didn’t sound like he was waiting for someone to return him to the safety of his stall. He sounded spooked.

  “There, now, Dick, silly boy.” Sarah’s voice was calm and full of affection. “Komm here now. I will take you back to your stall.”

  Jacob spotted the draft horse, a large, pale shadow. The animal drifted slowly toward Sarah, as if uncertain what to do.

  “That’s my boy,” she crooned. “You don’t want to be out in the dark.” She held up her hand, taking a step closer.

  Uneasiness was a chill breath on Jacob’s neck, and he tried to shrug it off. Sarah had been dealing with the horses since she was four, and even her father admitted that few could handle them better. It was probably the uncertainty of the past few days that made him jittery.

  “That’s my boy,” she repeated, then reached for the halter, the movement slow and gentle. “You got out and didn’t know what to do, did you?” Her hand touched the halter.

  The night seemed to explode with noise—thudding hooves, frightened whinnies, a rush of movement from the barn, so fast he could hardly sort it out. Not just Dick—all the horses were out, frightened, bolting mindlessly.

  Jacob raced toward the spot where Sarah had been, heart pounding, his breath catching. Sarah. None of the horses would step on her if they saw her, but frightened, in the dark—who knew what might happen?

  He reached the animals, lunging between them, not caring for the moment what happened to them as long as he could find Sarah. Then he saw her, a dark shape on the ground, and his heart wanted to burst with fear.

  “Sarah!”

  But she was already scrambling to her feet. “I’m all right. Get after the horses before they run onto the road.”

  Relief flooded through him. Sarah wouldn’t sound that tart if anything was wrong with her.

  “Ja, I’m trying.” He grabbed the nearest halter, realizing that he had hold of Sarah’s mother’s buggy horse. A skittish mare at the best of times, she shied away, but he hung on, grimly determined, until she settled.

  “I’ve got Bell, but if I let go to get the others, she’ll run.”

  Sarah came toward him, dwarfed by the two immense draft horses she led. “Take Dick and Bill. As long as you have a hand on them, they won’t move. Maybe they’ll settle Bell.”

  “Watch out for that colt,” he warned. Sarah’s daad had a half-broken colt he seemed to think would make a good buggy horse, but Jacob had his doubts. The sound of a car out on the road somewhere alarmed him. If that colt made a break for the road, it could cause an accident.

  Maybe he should try to get these three into the barn and help Sarah— The back door flew open. Alerted by the noise, Josiah, Sarah’s father, came hurrying out.

  In a few minutes’ time, they were putting all the horses safely back into their stalls. Josiah, frowning, checked each of the latches. He shook his head.

  “The girls can be careless sometimes, but not this careless.”

  “Someone has done this deliberately.” Sarah stated the obvious conclusion.

  “Ach, it’s spring,” Josiah said, as if that explained it all. “Some young person thought it would be a gut joke to let all the horses out.”

  True, the amount of mischief increased with the warmer weather, but Jacob wasn’t satisfied. “Not an Amish kid, ain’t so?”

  Josiah shook his head. “I would hope that none of ours would be so heedless of the animals. They could have run onto the road and been hit.”

  “I heard a car,” Jacob said. “When we were rounding up the horses, I heard a car on the road. I didn’t think of it at the time, but what I heard was the engine starting.”

  Sarah stared at him, her eyes wide in the glow of the battery lanterns. “You mean someone parked along the road,” she said. “Someone Englische.”

  “Englische. We will never know who.” Josiah led the way out of the barn. “And we forgive them, whoever they are.”

  Jacob nodded agreement. What else could he do? But he didn’t like this.

  He caught up with Sarah as her father went in the house. “Wait a minute.” He touched her arm to stop her. “What if this had something to do with what’s been happening at the Strickland place? Sarah, I don’t think you should go there anymore.”

  “Don’t be so foolish. How could the horses getting out have anything to do with Mr. Strickland?” She pulled away from him and marched into the house.

  But he had heard the worry under her curt tone, and he knew Sarah had been thinking just what he had.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  LEO FROST WAS WAITING when Sarah and Jacob arrived at the Strickland place the next day. Hank was nowhere to be seen. Either he had an early class or he’d sensed Leo’s reservations where he was concerned; Sarah wasn’t sure which.

  The lawyer met them in the kitchen. “Sarah, Jacob, good morning. I wanted to go over a few things with you, Sarah.”

  Jacob made a movement toward the door. “I will go now, since Mr. Frost is here.”

  “Stay, please, Jacob.” He stopped him with a gesture. “I’m sure Sarah has told you about her concerns over the way Richard Strickland died.”

  Jacob nodded, his strong-featured face giving no hint as to his opinion.

  “I wanted you both to know that I discussed with Chief Byler the things you noticed. I don’t want you to think I ignored your concerns.”

  “I know you wouldn’t,” Sarah said, but she could tell by his face what Chief Byler’s opinion had been.

  “We talked about it at length,” Leo went on. “But you must understand that each of those things could have an innocent explanation.”

  “Ja, I see.” That was it, then. No one would take her worries seriously.

  Leo shrugged, spreading his hands. “There was no indication that the house
had been broken into, and as far as I can tell, nothing is missing. As for Richard’s will, I can’t see that anyone benefits from his death, other than the Heart Association and the historical society.” He smiled, creases deepening around his eyes. “Maude Stevens may be annoying, but I hardly think she’d hurry his death for the sake of acquiring this house for her group.” Leo eyed Sarah closely. “You’re still worried, aren’t you? Why?”

  She shrugged, finding it difficult to put her observations into words that wouldn’t sound foolish.

  “Has anything else happened?” he pressed.

  She hesitated. “There was the answering machine on the telephone.”

  “What about it?” Leo seemed puzzled, and Jacob gave her a look that questioned why she hadn’t told him.

  “After Mr. Strickland passed, I noticed that there were three messages on the machine. I kept meaning to ask you what to do about them, but I didn’t think of it when you were here. Yesterday, when I came back from town, there were no messages.”

  Frowning, Leo led the way to the little alcove off the hall where the phone was. The two of them trouped after him.

  “You did not tell me about this.” Jacob sounded accusing.

  “I wasn’t sure it was important.” And she hadn’t wanted Jacob to fret still more about her.

  Leo stared at the answering machine, its unwinking red light staring back at him. He pressed the play button. The machine whirred and shut off. No messages.

  He looked at her. “You’re sure of this?”

  “Ja. I noticed it. I am sure. It’s the same brand as the one Daad has in the phone shanty.” Leo would understand that while Amish didn’t have phones in their homes, most had access to one in a special shed somewhere on the property—necessary for business and for emergencies.

  Leo ran a hand over his thick white hair. “I have to confess that electronic gadgets baffle me. I can’t even set my new alarm clock. Could a power surge have wiped the messages away?”

  “I don’t know.” The Amish didn’t rely on electric lines, just batteries, and she had no idea.

  “Are you sure you locked everything when you went out?” Leo sounded frustrated, and she was sorry to have given him something else to worry about.

  “I…I think so.” She frowned. “I know I locked the front door.”

  “I suppose there are some extra keys floating around town,” Leo admitted, “even though I collected the one Hank Mitchell had for emergencies. Richard was careful, but he never imagined anything bad could happen here.”

  Jacob stirred, as if the words had made him think of something. “Sarah, I think you should tell Mr. Frost about what happened last night.”

  “That couldn’t have anything to do with Mr. Strickland.” She tried to sound as if she were sure.

  “I think you should tell me anything that’s out of the ordinary.” Leo’s normally clear blue eyes were clouded with doubt.

  “The horses got out last night,” Jacob said, apparently determined to take over. “Sarah was trying to catch the draft horse when all the others came racing out, like something had scared them. They ran right toward her.”

  “You weren’t hurt?” Leo reached toward Sarah.

  “No, no, I am fine.” She hurried to reassure him. “The animals would not hurt me.”

  “Not if they saw you,” Jacob corrected. “But they might if they were spooked.”

  “Daad says it was probably just Englische teenagers looking for mischief.” She glared at Jacob. “What could anyone gain by injuring me?”

  “Someone might feel he or she would have easier access to the house if you weren’t here.” Leo’s frown deepened. “I don’t like this at all, Sarah. Maybe I should get someone else to handle clearing up.”

  “No one else knew Mr. Strickland and the house the way I do. If anything is missing, I would notice it. Would anyone else?”

  “Probably not,” he said slowly, as if he didn’t want to admit it.

  “Sarah…” Jacob began.

  “I am fine, Jacob. Don’t fuss.”

  “Well, one thing we can do is make the house more secure,” Leo said. “I’ll have dead bolts installed on all the entrances immediately.”

  “I can do that,” Jacob said. “I’ll go to the hardware store right now.” He was determined to do something.

  “Fine. I’ll go with you.” Leo clapped him on the shoulder. “Sarah, lock the door behind us, please.”

  She stood at the doorway, watching them leave together: the formally dressed Englischer lawyer and the straw-hatted Amishman. Despite the many differences between them, Jacob and Leo had one thing in common—this ridiculous need to take care of her.

  * * *

  JACOB HAD INTENDED to look after the new locks right away, but things didn’t work out that way. He’d had to go back home to fetch his tools and got tied up helping Sarah’s father. Finally, by midafternoon, he’d begun installing them.

  They were all done now, except for the front door. He worked carefully, not wanting to leave a scratch on the polished wood surface. Sarah would have something to say about that if he did.

  Of course, she’d have to be talking to him for that. Since he’d returned, her responses to him were of the yes and no variety.

  Well, he understood his Sarah. She’d been annoyed that he’d pushed her into telling Leo Frost about the incident with the horses, further annoyed that he’d tried to take care of her. Interfering, she’d call it. She ought to know by now that he couldn’t do anything else.

  She’d been in the dining room for the past hour, wrapping dishes in newspaper and packing them into boxes. He’d heard the occasional clink of a plate and the rustle of paper. Now, it seemed, she’d gone into the kitchen, and he could hear her moving around in there.

  What was he going to do about Sarah? He couldn’t go on this way, hoping she’d look at him and see someone other than the friend of her childhood. He loved her. He wanted her to be his wife. But those thoughts always brought him back to the same place. If he spoke up, he’d risk losing what they had.

  “Jacob, what is it? You’re looking grim.”

  It was a measure of the intensity of his thoughts that he hadn’t heard her approach.

  She smiled at him, eyes questioning, and held out a glass of tea, ice clinking. “I thought you could use a break.”

  He took the glass, recognizing it as a truce. “Are you done being mad at me now?”

  “I’m getting there,” she said. “I know you mean to be helpful.”

  “This isn’t like getting you out of the apple tree or telling your mamm that I was the one who ate the cherry pie. If you are right about Mr. Strickland’s death…” He stopped, not sure he wanted to put his fears into words.

  She paled. “I know. I haven’t been able to think of anything else since it happened. If someone was in the house that night…” She bit her lip. “Surely no one would want to hurt Mr. Strickland.”

  Her lost expression hit Jacob in the heart. He set the glass down and touched her arm. “Maybe the police are right. If he heard something, it is possible he would come down to check, ain’t so? And even if someone did try to get in, that doesn’t mean that person caused him to fall. It could have been an accident.”

  Jacob wasn’t sure what he believed about Richard Strickland’s death. He just knew he had to take that lost look from Sarah’s eyes.

  It didn’t seem to be working. She rubbed her arms as if she was cold.


  “I can’t forget it, Jacob. I can’t. I have to know what happened. I can’t just keep wondering.”

  He longed to comfort her, but that wasn’t what she needed now. She needed answers, and he didn’t have any.

  “If someone was in the house that night,” he said, feeling his way, “why were they here? To steal?”

  It happened sometimes, even in a place like Springville. Even the Amish weren’t immune. People sometimes tried to rob or cheat them, knowing they were unlikely to go to the police.

  “Maybe a thief,” she said. “But that wouldn’t explain the answering machine. Why would a thief come back and wipe the messages off?”

  “I don’t know.” He almost said that deleting the messages could be accidental, but concentrating on the possibilities was chasing the hurt from her eyes. “What about what Leo told us…that Mr. Strickland was going to change his will?”

  She considered for a moment, and then shook her head. “Leo was right—you can’t think the people from the historical society would do violence to stop him from changing his will.”

  “I guess not.” He smiled. “But I wouldn’t want to cross Mrs. Stevens.”

  She managed to return the smile, encouraging him.

  “If someone is trying to get into the house, there must be something here that he or she wants,” he went on. “It’s like you told Leo—you’re the best one to find it.”

  Sarah looked at him, blue eyes shining again. “Ja, I am.”

  It cost him a pang of worry for her, but he said it because he knew this was what she needed. “Then why are you wasting time making iced tea?”

  Her arms went around him in a quick, warm hug. “Danki, Jacob.” She ran lightly up the steps.

  CHAPTER SIX

  MR. STRICKLAND HAD HAD two favorite rooms in this house: the downstairs sunroom next to the kitchen, where he sat in the daytime, and the upstairs study—his office, he’d called it. Sarah had spent the past hour working her way through the massive mahogany desk in the study, methodically sorting papers for Leo to go over. She’d found nothing remotely suspicious, but since she didn’t know what she was looking for, that was hardly surprising.