“Can we afford to sleep in a real bed tonight?” Joseph asked.
Zeke grinned. “I told you to break in that saddle before taking it out on the trail.”
“Ridiculing me is not helpful.” Joseph reached up with both hands and straightened his hat.
“I will make inquiries about a hotel.” Zeke turned to face the store behind them and looked up at its sign. “Denton Emporium. Sounds like a place that should have everything we need. Why don’t you have a look around? But do not lose the horses.”
“Should we not stay together?” Joseph asked. But he was muttering at Zeke’s back.
Joseph sucked in his lips while he looked around to get his bearings. It did not take much to disorient him in new places—another reason the bishop should have sent someone else. The main street was only a few blocks long. Joseph allowed one finger to point from his hip at the businesses he saw as he murmured the words he read on the signs. He glanced at the sun to make sure he had his directions right. Churches, shops, and blacksmiths populated a simple grid of streets, interspersed with stretches of homes. It was not an Amish village, but as far as the English went, it did not look too complicated.
Joseph breathed relief.
Across the street a huddle broke up and a young woman emerged, straightened her shoulders, and kicked up road dust.
She was headed straight for Joseph. He turned his head in the direction Zeke had chosen, but his friend had disappeared from sight.
Her dark hair was efficiently bundled under a wide-brimmed purple hat above a lavender calico dress. Joseph could see her dark eyes, though, and whatever she wanted, she meant business. He ran a dry tongue over chapped lips.
“You, sir,” she said. “I haven’t seen you in town before.”
Joseph opened his mouth, but no sound resulted. He had learned his English from doing field work beside English men, but he was not accustomed to speaking to English women.
“I don’t mean to be rude.” Now that she had a closer view and could see more than his hat, Maura inspected the oddly dressed young man. “But I must ask you to identify yourself and your business in Gassville.”
“I am Joseph Beiler.” His violet-blue eyes clouded.
“Byler?” Maura’s forehead crinkled. “Are you a relative of the sheriff?”
“Sheriff?” The young man shook his head slowly.
“Yes.” Maura pursed her lips. Could this man not answer a simple question? “Have you come to see the sheriff?”
“No, miss. Our people are peaceable.”
Maura cocked her head. “If I might ask, what do you mean, ‘our people’?”
He gestured to the pocketless black wool coat he was wearing even on a warm day. “The Amish.”
“Amish? I thought you gave your name as Byler.”
“Yes, Joseph Beiler.” He spelled his surname.
“Just a coincidence of name, I suppose.” Maura shifted her bag from one hand to the other.
“Perhaps.”
“What is that accent I hear in your speech?” Maura asked. “Where are you from?”
“Tennessee.”
Maura grunted. “Before that.”
“Pennsylvania,” he said.
“Before that, then.”
“We have been in America since before your Revolutionary War.”
“Then you are American, and it was your war, too. And you may as well claim the War of 1812, that horrendous mess between the states, and the whole lot.”
“We have nothing to do with war. As I said, we are peaceable.”
“Ah yes. So you say. Why do you sound German?”
“Our language is German.”
“Mmm.” Maura glanced down the street. “What happened to your friend?”
Joseph took a step back. “We are just visiting.”
“Is he Amish, too?”
“Yes. Do you not know our people?”
Maura fidgeted with her handbag and extracted the white gloves, which she then clutched in one fist. “I cannot honestly say I have ever heard of the Amish.” Though he had found his tongue, this man clearly was nervous, and Maura did not abide nervous people. They always had something to hide.
“Though I find your inquiry of visitors curious even for the English,” he said, “I will answer your questions. You need only ask.”
“You find me impolite.” Maura waved her fist and the empty fingers of her gloves fluttered. “Your opinion does not deter me. And I am not English. My people came from Scotland.”
He shifted his weight. “I apologize. I used our word for all people who are not of our faith.”
Maura toggled her chin from side to side. “So you lump us all together, do you?”
He lifted his shoulders and blinked his eyes at the same time.
“Perhaps we deserve it,” she said. “I trust our humble businesses will be able to supply your needs.”
“I have no doubt we will be comfortable during our brief visit.”
Brief. That was the word she wanted to hear.
“We sometimes get troublemakers.” Maura waved her gloves at Joseph again. “I just want you to know that I will not hesitate to fetch Sheriff Byler if I believe there to be trouble on the streets of Gassville.”
“You will have no cause on our account,” he said. “Byler is an Amish name. Perhaps your sheriff and I have something in common.”
Maura laughed. “I’m not sure what your people believe, but I assure you Abraham Byler is a good Christian man. His people came from Tennessee and Mississippi, and he is in church every Sunday. The children in his Sunday school class adore him.”
“I only meant to comment on the name,” Joseph said. He jutted his chin down the street. “Here comes Zeke.”
Joseph hoped this woman had no idea how fast his heart was beating. He had never done more than sell his mother’s eggs to an English woman who thought keeping layers was too much bother.
“Have you made a friend already?” Zeke asked.
Only Joseph heard the jest in Zeke’s tone.
“This is my traveling companion, Ezekiel Berkey,” Joseph said. “I am afraid I do not yet know the name of this vigilant resident of Gassville.”
She arched her back slightly.
“Perhaps vigilant is too strong,” Joseph offered.
Without looking at Joseph, the woman offered a bare hand for Zeke to shake. “I am Maura Woodley. I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Berkey. Welcome to Gassville.”
“And I you.” Zeke shook her hand, but his eyes moved to Joseph.
“I will not detain you further.” Maura stuffed her gloves back in her bag. “The hotel is not hard to find if you choose to stay. It’s just down the street. I’d better get back to my horse and cart.”
They watched her leave, the two of them still and somber. She crossed the street and marched down the walkway toward a young mare that matched her hair in color and a cart Joseph had an impulse to repair.
“Vigilant?” Zeke said finally. “Is that not a harsh way to describe someone you just met?”
“It is accurate.”
“Did you even go into the emporium?” Zeke asked. “Or did you spend all your time flirting with an English?”
Joseph scowled. “I am not flirting with anyone.”
“Good. Because Hannah is waiting for you. You know that.” Joseph leaned his head to one side. “Hannah.” Maura.
“Yes, Hannah. She is en lieb. What she sees in you, I will never know, but she is my sister and she wants to marry you.”
Joseph knew Hannah believed this to be true. He had not known that she had spoken of it to anyone. When this journey was over, the harvest would come and then the marrying season.
Hannah was sure.
Joseph was not. But he would not tell Zeke.
“I went into a store at the other end of town.” Zeke brushed his palms together three times. “It was a dusty place. A man named Twigg runs it.”
“What kinds of goods does he carry?”
&n
bsp; “I did not stay around long enough to find out. He sounded angry. He was going on about the Denton brothers who run this emporium.”
Joseph fingered the brim of his hat. He had not even tried to stop. “Miss Woodley is vigilant because she is fearful of trouble. Perhaps you have uncovered the source of her fear.”
“From what I gather, the Dentons and the Twiggs both have cattle spreads along with their stores.” Zeke scratched his clean-shaven chin. “If God has already blessed them so abundantly, what can they have to argue about?”
“Mountain Home is only a few miles,” Joseph pointed out. “We could ride there easily.”
Zeke looked around. “We are in no hurry. Let’s take a room at the hotel here.”
Seven
Annie pedaled harder. The five miles between her house in town and the Beiler farm inclined at a deceitfully gradual pace but inclined nevertheless. The mid-September sun was bright but not hot, for which Annie was grateful at the moment.
She was looking for Leah Deitwaller. Three days had passed since Annie encountered Leah’s parents. Two days had passed since she and Rufus nearly ran Leah over. And still Leah had not returned home. Annie had heard the news not two hours ago from Beth Stutzman, who was passing on information she had heard from her mother, Edna, who had taken a basket of jams out to the new family earlier in the day. Annie recognized the process of transmission as bordering on gossip, but she had reason to believe the information was accurate. How the Deitwallers could be so unconcerned about their daughter befuddled Annie. Even if Leah were a few months older than she was and technically no longer underage, why would they not be concerned for her safety?
Annie opened her mouth wide and drew in crisp, fall mountain air and then leaned forward to put her weight on one pedal and then the other. She had made this ride enough times in the last year—except during the wintry weather—to know just how much farther her endurance had to carry her before the highway would level out. She breathed in and out, in and out, her athlete’s instinct being sure her muscles received sufficient oxygen to perform.
At the edge of the Beiler land, Annie could at last cease pedaling and coast a few yards at a time. If she had to, she would pedal all the way out to the Deitwaller farm, but her intuition told her it would be a waste of time to go that far. Leah was making a point. Not a good point, not a wise point, but a statement to her parents nevertheless. She would not lurk in their backyard.
Obviously Leah had ventured into town, a good ten miles from her parents’ home. But Annie doubted she was seeking shelter in town. There simply were not enough empty structures, except new construction. Annie shook off the memory of Rufus’s question about Leah’s whereabouts on Sunday morning.
Annie slowed alongside a fence and waved at Joel Beiler astride his horse, Brownie, in the middle of his alfalfa field. Joel took the horse to the fence. He pulled a shirtsleeve under the brim of his hat and across his forehead, sopping up perspiration.
“It’s a fine day to be outside,” Annie said.
Joel nodded. “Outside is where the work is. What brings you out here?”
“I’m looking for someone. Leah Deitwaller.”
Joel pointed. “Five miles that way.”
“Yes, I know that’s where their farm is. I don’t think that’s where Leah is, though.”
Joel gave nothing away in his expression.
“Have you seen her?” Annie sat on her bicycle seat with one foot on the ground and the other on a pedal. “Maybe you thought she was on her way somewhere?”
“Yesterday.”
Annie gave a slight gasp. She had not really expected any help from Joel. “Where?”
“Walking through the meadow across the highway.”
“Could you tell where she was going?”
Joel stretched his lips into a straight line. “It would just be a guess.”
“Then guess! I think she’s in trouble, Joel. I’m worried.”
He bumped a fist softly against his chin. “She was walking west. Not sure why anyone would go that way, but there is an old mining road.”
“Where? Tell me how to find it.”
Joel hesitated. “I don’t want to hear that you got into trouble, too.”
“I’m going to keep looking either way, Joel. Just give me some directions.”
He shook his head. “Let me have a few minutes. I left the cart at the south end of the field. I’ll go get it.”
“I’ll meet you there.” Annie shifted her weight and put her bicycle in motion.
“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” Annie gripped the seat beneath her with both hands.
“Well, if I don’t, then it’s better I did not send you off on a wild goose chase by yourself.”
“But do you?”
“I can’t promise Leah is going to be there.”
Joel swung as hard a left turn as Annie had ever seen anyone make in a horse and cart. She refused to slide on the bench.
“Fine. Just show me where you saw her yesterday and we’ll figure it out from there.”
Annie scanned the meadow on both sides of the narrow road that Joel had found. It was barely more than a horse trail, but she could see how in Westcliffe’s history it would have been an avenue between the mines and the population. Summer was waning. Around her the meadow already had begun to brown. Leah’s dress would be bright—a rich blue and a purple apron if she was wearing the same dress Annie had last seen her in. But where on this meadow could Leah have found shelter? Soon home heating systems would go on at night. Even a dedicated camper would look for a way to keep warm.
“I think we found her.” Joel slowed the horse.
Annie swung around to look out the other side of the cart, and there was the patch of blue and purple. Leah sat cross-legged on the ground with her head hanging almost to her lap.
Leah was crying, Annie realized. She put up a hand to signal Joel to stop then carefully exited the cart with no sudden movement. Annie glanced over her shoulder when the creak above the left wheel revealed Joel had left the cart as well. Leah’s shoulders rose and fell with her sobs. Annie took one slow step at a time toward the girl. Finally, she was close enough to kneel beside her.
“Leah.”
The girl’s head snapped up. “What are you doing here? Can’t a body have a moment of peace?”
Annie licked her lips. “It doesn’t look like peace to me.”
“I didn’t ask you.”
“Leah, let me help you.” Behind Annie, Joel followed but kept his distance.
“Tell me how to take a train to Pennsylvania.” Leah’s eyes dared. “Get me a job in that shop you work in so I can earn train fare. You want to help me? That’s what you can do.”
Annie sat on the ground and said nothing.
“I suppose you want me to go to my parents.” Leah sniffed.
“We could talk about it, at least.”
Leah picked up a letter from her lap and waved it. “I walked into town yesterday and went to the post office. I asked if any mail was addressed to me, not to my parents, and I got this.”
The letter bore a firm male hand and was written in Pennsylvania Dutch.
“Who is it from?” Annie asked quietly.
“From the only person on earth who really loves me.”
“I see.” Annie understood now why Leah was so desperate to return to Pennsylvania.
“He wants me to come back. We want to get married.”
“You’re only seventeen.”
Leah rolled her eyes. “You’re baptized Amish. You have to know that seventeen and Amish is not like seventeen and English.”
It was still young, but Annie choked back her words.
“Don’t say anything if you’re just going to sound like my mother.”
“Have you had other letters? Have you showed one to your mother?”
Leah expelled breath. “I tried. She tore it up without even taking it out of the envelope.”
“I’m sorry.” Ann
ie pulled her knees up under her chin. “What if I asked you to come home with me?”
Leah’s eyes widened. “To your house in town?”
Annie nodded. It would be a first step. If she could get Leah sheltered and cared for, perhaps the girl would agree to further conversation.
“It’s a trick. Don’t think Amish girls don’t recognize tricks.”
“I never said—”
Leah was on her feet and sprinting toward Brownie and the cart.
“Wait!” Annie called.
Joel sprang into action, too. But Leah had too much of a head start on them. She leaped into the cart and picked up the reins. Brownie responded to the sound she made and the signals of the reins and began a rapid trot.
Rufus looked at the newspaper folded neatly on the coffee shop table he had chosen to occupy. It was just the local Westcliffe paper, in print for over a hundred years. Rufus thought of it like the Budget, the Amish newspaper out of Sugarcreek, Ohio, that congregations around the nation read. It was full of news and information that might pique the curiosity of members of the community but would not interest outsiders. Rufus nudged the paper out of his way and set his coffee down.
A shadow crossed the table and Rufus looked up. “Hello, Tom.”
“I’m glad you could meet.” Tom sat across from Rufus. “How are you for work? I might have a lead for you.”
Rufus cleared his throat. “Well, the fire has caused a setback, and you already know David has no orders for me right now.”
“This could be steady work over the winter.”
“I usually try to build hope chests when construction slows down.”
“But you have no orders.”
“God will provide.”
Tom sipped coffee. “Could God provide by giving you a full-time job?”
“Full-time?”
“For a few months. A friend of mine in Cañon City keeps a carpenter on his staff, but the guy got hurt—on his own time. This is nothing dangerous. But he won’t be back to work for four months.”
Rufus turned the pages of a mental calendar. “Cañon City is too far. How would I get there and back every day?”
Taken for English Page 5
