“What happened to Walter?” someone asked.
Maura’s stomach lurched, and she released her grip on the counter to turn and face the commotion. “He was sweeping the sidewalk out there a few minutes ago.”
“Well, I don’t see him now.”
Before she could move to the front of the store to look out the window for herself, a click behind the counter made her gasp.
The sound of a shooter readying a pistol.
Lee and Ing Denton both stood behind the counter of their emporium with pistols in their hands.
“What are you doing?” she demanded. “That will not solve anything.”
“If he has a gun, we have to be ready,” Lee said.
“You already asked if he had a gun,” Maura said. “Mr. Berkey informs us he does not.”
Lee shook his head. “He said he did not see one. That’s not the same.”
Another click. Another pistol cocked.
“Ing, no.” Maura slapped the counter. “This is not the way.”
“He’s the crazy man.” Ing Denton nudged his brother out from behind the counter. Lee cocked a third pistol and led the way with a gun in each hand. Ing followed with his. Customers stepped back to clear their path to the front of the store.
Maura swallowed hard and followed them. “Has anyone spotted Walter?” She stumbled on the hem of her skirt and looked down at her shoes.
In that moment, the shots rang out.
“It’s Walter!” a woman cried. “They’ve shot Walter in the heart.”
Joseph pushed past Lee and Ing and Zeke and even Miss Woodley, oblivious to danger now, and saw Walter run past the front of the store with his hand over his chest. The boy reminded him of his younger brother, Little Jake, both gangly and fair haired, and his protective instinct kicked in.
He grabbed Walter, who was bellowing now. If the boy was screaming and running, Joseph wondered, how badly could he be hurt? Yet blood spurted between the fingers clasped over his chest.
“Make him lie down.” The instruction came from Miss Woodley, but Joseph agreed. The gunshots had stopped, and even if they had not, Joseph would not abandon Miss Woodley and Walter at a time of need. Being a person of peace did not mean withholding compassion.
It was easy enough to lay Walter on the sidewalk he had been sweeping only moments ago. Maura Woodley knelt beside the boy on the other side.
“We must move his hand and see the damage.” Maura’s face crunched in on itself.
Walter was still thrashing his legs, but he offered no resistance when Joseph moved to pry the boy’s fingers apart. Beneath them, he found no wound.
Then Maura held the fingers of Walter’s left hand. “Why, he’s been hit in the knuckles.”
Joseph wiped the boy’s knuckles with his shirtsleeve then leaned back on his heels and expelled his pent-up breath. “It looks a lot worse than it is.”
“Thank you. You risked your life for my cousin.”
Joseph drank in her dark eyes for the first time. All he could think of was that he hoped someone would have done the same for Little Jake. He grabbed his shirt at the shoulder seam and yanked. The sleeve came loose, and he wrapped it around Walter’s bleeding hand.
“He should see the doctor,” Maura said, her hands helping to wrap her cousin’s fingers.
“Of course.” Joseph looked up and down the street. “Which way?”
Zeke was suddenly behind him. “I know the way.”
Ezekiel Berkey had not been in Gassville any longer than Joseph Beiler, but at the moment Joseph was glad for Zeke’s propensity to snoop wherever he went. Joseph’s eyes settled on John Twigg, and he pointed. “Someone should help him, too.”
John Twigg lay in the street, bleeding from his head like a stuck pig.
“I’ll go for the doctor.” Zeke scooped up Walter and put him on his feet. “Follow me, Joseph.”
“Why did they shoot me?” Walter asked. “And I know where the doctor is better than strangers.”
“Just go, Walter,” Maura said. “Let them look after you. Don’t worry about John Twigg right now.”
“I’ve seen enough hog butcherings,” Walter said, “to know that a mad animal takes a long time to die. John Twigg is gonna be like that, I just know.”
“Hush, Walter.” Maura turned to Joseph. “If Doc Denton is not in his office, try Dr. Lindsay. He’s farther away, though.”
“I saw his shingle,” Mr. Berkey said.
“Hurry!”
Two strangers, whom she had suspected of ill will only yesterday, had custody of Walter. The boy would be fine. For John Twigg’s sake, though, Maura hoped Mr. Berkey knew the town as well as he claimed. Around the angry shopkeeper, a few people had realized the severity of his wound and stood and pointed. No one stepped forward to help him, and neither did Maura. No human being, not even John Twigg, deserved Walter’s comparison to a hog butchering. But no one could help him—perhaps not even one of the doctors—and nothing Maura did would change that.
The street fell silent as the crowd realized that the Denton-Twigg feud had taken a fatal twist.
It was Belle Mooney that worried Maura now.
Ten
Are you sure?” Outside his hardware store on Main Street on Tuesday morning, Tom Reynolds crossed his arms, puzzled.
Annie answered without hesitation. “I’ll pay you twice your usual rate for taxi service.”
Tom waved the offer away. “That’s not necessary. If you’ve made up your mind, I’ll take you.”
“I promise not to tie up your time for a minute longer than necessary.” Annie straightened the bib of her black apron. “Do you know where the Deitwaller farm is?”
“I have a vague idea.”
“Good enough for me.”
“I’ll pull my truck around.”
They found the farm thirty minutes later. Annie scanned for signs that someone was home. The land was farther out and more isolated than the Beilers’, reminding Annie that most of the Amish in Custer County were farther from town. The day called for no scheduled sewing or quilting gatherings among the women, so unless Eva Deitwaller was making a visit, she would be home. As Tom eased his red pickup to a stop outside the home, Annie saw the family’s buggy parked at the edge of the yard.
“You can still change your mind,” Tom said.
Annie shook her head. “Wait here, please. I won’t be long.”
She approached the front door, set her jaw, and knocked.
Mrs. Deitwaller came to the screen door.
“Hello,” Annie said. “I wonder if I might come in and talk to you.” Amish hospitality would make it difficult for Eva to send her away. For extra assurance, Annie raised a hand to the door handle. Eva complied by unlatching the hook and eye.
Annie tried not to glance around the front room in too curious a manner. The invitation to sit that she hoped for did not come, so she held her hands together calmly and determined not to sound aggressive.
“I wondered if Leah is home,” Annie said. “I thought I might invite her to visit the Beilers with me. They have daughters around her age.”
“We know who the Beilers are.” Mrs. Deitwaller pulled a dish towel off her shoulder and wiped her hands.
“Yes, of course. Sophie and Lydia are lovely girls. I thought Leah might enjoy spending more time with them.”
“Well, she’s not here.”
“Oh?” Annie’s fingers twitched. “Perhaps I could leave a note.”
Mrs. Deitwaller shrugged. “If you’re fishing to know whether Leah has come home, you can stop right there. She hasn’t.”
Annie tried to look sympathetic. “You must be concerned about her.”
“She’s a headstrong child. Always has been.”
“But…where is she staying? You must be wondering if she is safe.”
“No need to tell me what I must be wondering.”
Annie’s right forefinger began to tap. “I’m sure if the two of you sat down and talked about your differenc
es, you could find a way through them.”
“Just what do you know of our differences?”
Annie moistened her lips. “I know Leah was…unenthusiastic about the move to Colorado.”
“We’re her parents. We know what’s best for her.”
Annie’s tongue formed sounds faster than she could stop it now. “Leah has been gone more than a week. Isn’t it best for her to be somewhere safe, with people who care for her, who will listen to her?”
Even under Eva Deitwaller’s long dress, Annie saw her shoes move to shoulder width apart. One hand went to a hip.
“I’ll thank you not to come in here with your English ways,” Mrs. Deitwaller said. “You’re barely baptized.”
Annie’s spine straightened. “I gave a lot of thought and prayer to my baptism.”
“What I hear is that you give a lot of thought to Rufus Beiler.”
Warmth rose through Annie’s face. “I was baptized because I want to be Amish. Because God called me to be Amish.”
“You don’t have any idea what you are getting into.” Eva scoffed.
Balled into fists, Annie’s hands moved to her sides, where she hid them in the folds of her skirt. “That’s not true. I studied with the bishop. I worship regularly with the congregation.”
“Yes, well, time will tell. But when it comes to Leah, you know nothing. She lives in her imagination. You have no idea what kind of trouble she is capable of causing.”
“She seems quite sincere to me,” Annie said. “She certainly is of an age to fall in love and think about her future.”
“She has always made up stories of how she would like things to be rather than how they really are.”
“Why would her young man write to her if he did not share her feelings?”
“I can assure you my husband will put a stop to that.” Eva waved one hand. “Certainly you can see Leah does not have the maturity for that kind of relationship.”
Annie dug her fists into her hips. This was going nowhere. If Leah and her mother would have a reasonable, calm conversation, they might both learn some things about each other. “I only want to help. Everyone deserves to be happy.”
“You’re as naive as Leah. May God help you both to come to your senses.” Mrs. Deitwaller opened the door and tilted her head out toward the yard.
Annie stifled her response and marched, head up, out to Tom’s truck. Inside, she slammed the door.
Tom raised a questioning eye.
“In her eyes, I’ll always be taken for English. But she’s wrong.”
“Your young man was just here.” Mrs. Weichert bent at the waist to rearrange the assortment of Amish jams on the shelf nearest the counter.
Annie tucked her small purse on the shelf under the counter and pushed it to the back. “Did he say what he wanted?”
“No, but he offered to unload my truck.”
“I was going to do that.”
“I know.” Mrs. Weichert gave a slight smile. “He’s just waiting for you, dear. Check the alley.”
Annie hoped her kapp was on straight. She had slouched in Tom’s truck all the way back into town, sullen and silent. She crossed the length of the shop and went into the back room. The door to the alley was propped open, and a few seconds later Rufus stepped through with a pair of upholstered dining chairs.
He set them down. “Ah. You’re back. Mrs. Weichert was not sure why you were a few minutes late.”
“I should have come in earlier instead of wasting my time.” She scuffled toward the door. “Is there much more?”
He set the chairs beside a tower of six boxes. “This is the last of it. It’s all from an estate sale in Pueblo.”
“We almost always find a few things we can use.”
“Annalise, why did you say you wasted your time?” He stood with one hand on a chair.
She hesitated.
“I know Leah Deitwaller has been on your mind a lot.”
Annie idly stroked the faded fabric and settled her hand next to his. “If she is on her mother’s mind, you would never know it. I was just there. I’m worried about Leah, but now I’m starting to wonder if her parents could be charged with neglect.”
“Are you thinking of making such an allegation yourself?”
“No.” She looked up into his violet-blue eyes. “I’m just grateful that the first Amish woman I met was your mother and not Leah’s. We might not be standing here right now if it had been Eva Deitwaller.”
“I know you want to help.” He covered her fingers with his hand. “And I’m sorry if Leah’s mother was harsh with you.”
Annie rolled her eyes. “But I should mind my own business.”
“There may be more to the Deitwallers’ story than we know.”
“Or Leah may be a confused young woman who is doing something foolish, even dangerous. Shouldn’t somebody care?”
He squeezed her fingers, and she looked again at his face. His lips parted, as if he were about to tell her something. He closed them and moistened them without saying anything.
“Rufus, what’s wrong? I’m sorry. I haven’t been paying any attention to what might be bothering you.”
He shook his head. “I just need to work out some business matters.”
“A new project?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Something a little different. I’m not sure it’s right for me.”
Rufus tugged on her hand, removing it from the chair and pulling her toward him. He glanced into the shop and then out into the alley before tilting his head to her upturned face and letting his lips linger on hers.
Annie tingled from head to toe. Rufus hardly ever kissed her, certainly not in a place where someone might walk in.
At the moment, though, she did not care. She placed her hands on his broad shoulders and deepened the kiss.
When her shift in the shop was over, Annie walked home and circled her house to the back porch. All afternoon she agitated first over Leah and then over Rufus. Leah was likely to do something rash—probably already had. Rufus likely had never made a rash decision in his life. But there was something he was not saying, something his kiss was meant to tell her.
Before going into the kitchen, Annie checked the small cupboard on the back porch where she kept a basket of garden vegetables. She could make herself a warm supper and have something waiting for Ruth later. And in the meantime, Annie would figure out what to do about Leah.
The basket was empty.
No, the basket was gone.
Ruth must have taken it inside, Annie reasoned. Then she reminded herself that the basket had been there just that morning. Annie had picked green beans before flagging down Tom Reynolds, and Ruth had left for the clinic while Annie was still in the garden.
She turned around and surveyed the yard. Then she descended the three steps and paced over to the vegetable patch. The produce had been thinning for several weeks, but Annie was sure she had bypassed a zucchini plant and one beanpole this morning because she judged she could wait another day or two before picking.
Someone had raided her garden, and Annie was pretty sure she knew who it was.
She smiled. This meant Leah Deitwaller could not be far away.
Rufus pulled open the door of the trailer that housed Kramer Construction and stepped inside the office. Karl Kramer’s administrative assistant aimed her thumb toward the inner office, and Rufus stepped past her desk.
In the inner office, the foreman of Kramer Construction rose from behind Karl’s desk. “Thanks for coming by.”
“It is my privilege.” Rufus dipped his hat. “Do you have news from Karl?”
“He has asked me to handle things for a while.” The foreman gestured that Rufus should sit in the chair beside the desk.
Rufus widened his eyes. “A while? Is he well?”
“Karl is fine. He just decided to spend more time with his father in Virginia.”
“I thought perhaps the fire would bring him home.”
“He was
angry, but that’s a matter for the insurance companies now. The buyers are not sure they want to build again, and their lawyer says that our failure to meet the contract date allows them to change their minds.”
“But surely under the circumstances—”
The foreman shook his head. “We’re all taking a hit on this, Rufus. I wanted to tell you in person that Karl is not planning to start any new projects over the winter. He wanted to be sure you knew it was nothing personal.”
Eleven
Annie straightened the stack of hard-to-find books at the back of the shop, wiping dust from each volume with a cotton rag. Some gems came through the shop, but no one would ever know it unless they stumbled on a volume on a lark of a summer’s weekend. Soon the weather would turn cold, and fewer people would be happening on Westcliffe because they were out for a drive.
Once, Annie had mentioned to Mrs. Weichert that it would be an easy thing to set up a website and engage in e-commerce. If they listed with a few trade organizations and invested in some minimal online advertising, people looking for particular rare books could find the shop on the Internet. These books could go to interested buyers rather than get trucked to the Salvation Army in Pueblo, where who knows what happened to them next.
Mrs. Weichert had waved off the idea. She was content with her income and reasoned that dealers in the region knew where she was. If they couldn’t be bothered to drive out to her shop, then they must not be all that curious about her inventory in any given month.
Annie had to admit it was probably just as well. Living in Westcliffe for the last year, well away from her former high-tech life as an innovative software designer, had not completely quelled her entrepreneurial urges. But it was better for her not to be tempted to begin yet another business with computers at its heart.
With one last swipe of the rag, Annie resisted the urge to pick up a book with a faded red binding and open it. If it did not sell soon, though, she would ask for it. Its title promised a wealth of information on nineteenth-century population shifts in western Tennessee and Arkansas. In the last few months, Annie had developed a fascination with stories of people who had taken great risks that changed their lives. All the people she had known in Colorado Springs would have laughed at her curious interest, but she did not care. Wasn’t it better to take a risk than just let life happen to you by never wondering what else was out there?
Taken for English Page 7
