Rachel's Rescue

by Serena B. Miller

  She struggled to remove Bobby’s suspenders.

  At that, he set up a scream so loud and shrill that Junior and Ezra covered their ears.

  “Now that you have that out of your system,” Greta said sternly, “we’re going to put a T-shirt on you.”

  “It has a nice picture of Donald Duck on it,” Junior offered.

  “This kid doesn’t know who Donald Duck is,” Greta said. From the sound of her voice, it was obvious that her nerves were getting a little frayed, and Bobby was glad. “He’s Amish. They don’t let their kids watch TV.”

  Bobby knew very well who Donald Duck was. Sometimes he and his daddy talked to each other in silly Donald Duck voices. Daddy could do it better than him, but he was getting pretty good at it too. Still, he had a feeling it might be best to keep that bit of information from them also.

  As the woman tried to maneuver the colorful T-shirt over his head, he set up another howl. Bobby wasn’t happy. And he was hungry. And he didn’t like these people or the smell of their house. He wanted his daddy and Rachel and he wanted a peanut butter sandwich. Right now. And he did not want to wear this T-shirt. Ezra’s mommy had given him the Amish clothes to wear. She had made them herself, just like she did all of Ezra’s clothes. They smelled like her, and that smell was comforting, and he had no intention of taking them off.

  As he fought and twisted and screamed over not wearing the T-shirt, Ezra, who had been standing there wide-eyed, had finally had enough. He began to cry.

  “Now we got one brat screaming and the other one bawling,” Junior said. “I thought you knew how to deal with kids.”

  “If you think you can do a better job, you’re welcome to try.” Greta sat back with a sigh of frustration. Bobby immediately pulled the Donald Duck T-shirt up over his head and threw it onto the floor.

  “What am I supposed to do with him?” Junior said.

  “Make him change his clothes,” she said. “My nerves are shot. I’m going for a walk. I’ll take the good one with me. You worry about the brat.”

  “Okay…,” Junior said doubtfully. “What if someone sees him with you?”

  “That’s why I wanted them to wear Englisch clothes. People are going to be looking for two little Amish boys, not Englisch.”

  “I’ll make this one behave.”

  “Just remember, if something goes wrong, the better shape these kids are in, the easier the cops will go on us,” she said. “Don’t leave any marks on him.”

  “You’ve always been too soft,” Junior said.

  Greta grabbed Ezra’s hand. “Come on.”

  Ezra worriedly looked back over his shoulder at Bobby as Greta pulled him outside and closed the door. Bobby had felt relatively safe as long as Greta was there, but with Junior he wasn’t sure how far the man would go, and he didn’t want to find out.

  When Junior turned back around to deal with him, Bobby was already dressed in the Donald Duck T-shirt and stiff blue jeans that were too big for him, and he was sitting on the couch with his short legs sticking straight out, obediently watching television.

  “That’s more like it!” Junior growled. “You’d better not get off that couch until Greta gets back if you know what’s good for you.”

  Bobby knew what was good for him. He stared at SpongeBob and didn’t move. For the first time in his life he was thoroughly sick of television.

  Chapter 53

  Carl had discovered a great place to take Shadow for a walk. It was an old railroad bed that had been converted to a hiking trail. The trailhead was not too far from the old part of town, just over the hill from the historic Hotel Millersburg. He loved taking Shadow for long walks there. It was a beautiful trail and went on for miles in either direction.

  If he turned left on the trail, he could walk all the way to Killbuck if he wanted to, passing Walmart, which had an access place in the back of the parking lot.

  If he turned right at the Millersburg trailhead, he could walk all the way to Holmesville, or even the rest of the way to Fredericksburg, although he had never attempted to hike that far yet. He doubted that having the freedom to take long, uninterrupted walks without looking at razor wire and having to watch his back every second would ever grow old.

  Peggy closed her office on Sundays, so after he’d put the hymnbooks and Bibles away after services and straightened the church auditorium, he was completely free to take Shadow for a long walk.

  The trail was paved, and bicyclists as well as hikers and runners used it. Every now and then a horse and buggy would trot by, the riders enjoying a drive with no threat of being run over by cars, which were strictly forbidden. It was an amazing place, and Carl was grateful to have discovered it.

  A woman in a gray sweater walked toward them from one of the small side paths that intersected the larger trail. She was gripping a child’s hand. Her head was down, and long hair covered her face. The child had a bad haircut and ill-fitting clothes, and he looked at Carl with frightened eyes.

  Carl did not like the look on the child’s face, but he did not know what to do about it. After all, he didn’t know the reason behind the fright. Perhaps the child had been chastised for some infraction of his mother’s rules.

  She was so deep in thought that she didn’t see him until she was almost upon him. When she glanced up, she looked vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn’t place her. He nodded to be polite, but she turned and disappeared down the side path, pulling the child behind her.

  There was a slight breeze then and Shadow sniffed the air, whined, and tugged at the leash. He looked back at Carl as though trying to tell him that they needed to go investigate that situation.

  “None of our business, boy,” Carl said. “Let’s keep going.”

  Shadow kept looking back over his shoulder at the child, as though puzzled about something. It was odd behavior for his dog, but there was nothing he could do about it. It wasn’t as though he was on easy speaking terms with anyone in law enforcement. Going up to a Millersburg cop and saying that he and his dog had a funny feeling about a child could be easily misunderstood.

  When a man was still this fresh out of prison, it was wise to fly beneath cop radar even if he was doing nothing wrong.

  Chapter 54

  “This is bad for us,” Bobby said. “We aren’t supposed to watch programs like this. They are too violent. My daddy says so.”

  “Shut up, kid,” Junior said, peering around him. Big Time Wrestling was on, and the sweaty men wrestled and grunted and pounded each other. “Just sit still and watch TV like your friend.”

  “He isn’t supposed to be watching this either,” Bobby insisted. “You should turn it off and play games with us or read us a book.”

  “You have got to be kidding.” Junior actually chuckled. “Greta can play games with you when she gets up from her nap—if she wants to. You gave her a headache.”

  “And all you’ve done is feed us potato chips and pop,” Bobby continued to complain. “My stomach hurts. I want a peanut-butter sandwich and so does Ezra.”

  Ezra glanced at him in surprise when he heard his name but then turned his attention back to the television. The child was mesmerized. He had never seen such a spectacle.

  “My daddy and mommy are going to be so mad at you for doing this,” Bobby said. “Just you wait.”

  “Yeah?” Junior laughed. “And what are your parents going to do? Pray for me? That’s a real threat there.”

  For a moment, Bobby was tempted to tell Junior what he knew—that Rachel would be looking everywhere to find him and she wouldn’t give up until she did. He wanted to tell this mean man that Rachel carried a gun and was so good with it that Daddy had found trophies up in the attic. But something told him that it was best if he continued to pretend to be Amish. It probably wasn’t a good idea to tell Junior that his mommy was a cop and his daddy was big and strong and famous.

  Instead, he went to the door and tried the knob. “I’m going home.”

  “Oh, you are, are you?�
�� Junior said.

  Bobby rattled the doorknob again.

  “It’s dark outside. There’s nothing out there except trees,” Junior said. “You wouldn’t be able to find your way home even if I let you go.”

  “I’d rather be lost than here with you!” Bobby said.

  “Not when a coyote decides to eat you,” Junior said. “They have big teeth and yellow eyes, and they’re out there just waiting for a juicy little boy to try to escape.”

  That gave Bobby pause. He was pretty sure Junior was just trying to scare him, but he didn’t think it would be wise to test it. There were coyotes in the area. He had heard Aunt Bertha and Aunt Lydia talking about them.

  “How long do we have to stay here?” Bobby plopped himself back down in front of the television and crossed his arms.

  “Until some nice Amish people bring us a whole lot of money. Then I plan to never see your face again, or his.” Junior said. “Hey, I gotta go to the can. You rug rats better still be sitting here when I get back.”

  Bobby could feel tears welling up in his eyes but kept his head turned away so Junior wouldn’t see them. He didn’t want Junior to think he was a baby.

  After Junior left the room, Bobby wiped his tears away and went back to the door. He tried again to get out, only this time he tried really hard. He remembered Rachel telling him that if someone ever managed to steal him, his job was to try to escape and not give up.

  “You need to be good,” Ezra said in Pennsylvania Dutch. “You should not be a bad boy and talk back to him like that. You should be more respectful. If we do what they say, I think they will let us go.”

  “I don’t want to be respectful,” Bobby said. “I want to get out of here.”

  “You heard Junior. There are coyotes out there. They will eat you.”

  “Junior is a coyote.” Bobby gave up on the locked door, gave it a kick, and then started working on opening one of the windows. It was stuck, and he wasn’t strong enough to unstick it. “He’s a bad man. I’d rather get eaten by a coyote than stay here with him.”

  “He’ll come back and catch you trying to get out the window,” Ezra said. “You need to get back here and sit down quick.”

  Junior walked back into the room and heard the two little boys talking to each other in Pennsylvania Deutsch. “What are you two saying? Get away from that window! Come back here and sit down before I swat your behind.”

  Bobby obeyed. He came back and sat, but he let Junior know he wasn’t happy by glaring at him over his shoulder every now and then as he watched the two sweaty men wrestle and fight.

  “I want to watch cartoons,” he said.

  “Well, I don’t.”

  “Well, I do.”

  “Are you sure you’re Amish?” Junior narrowed his eyes at him.

  Bobby rattled off a string of Pennsylvania Deutsch, telling Junior that he was nothing but an old, ugly, stinky coyote. Ezra giggled.

  Junior narrowed his eyes at Bobby. “What did you say?”

  “I told Ezra a joke.”

  Greta came through the doorway, rubbing her eyes. “Your turn,” she said. “I’ll keep watch for a while.”

  “Good,” Junior said. “This kid is giving me a headache now.”

  “We’re not supposed to watch things like this,” Bobby said. “And I want a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich. Ezra wants one too, don’t you?”

  “Well, it’s obvious he’s scared to death of us,” Junior said. “Obedient Amish child, my foot! This one is as bad as any Englisch kid I’ve ever seen.”

  “Calm down.” Greta changed the channel and a blue train engine took over the screen. “I’ve got some peanut butter.”

  “We don’t have to do this, you know,” Junior said. “We don’t have to feed them or listen to this one’s mouth. I could tie them up, put duct tape on their mouths, have some peace and quiet, and get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day and we need to be sharp in order to do the exchange.”

  “I’m not going to starve these kids or tie them up.” She put her hands on her hips. “A little TV time won’t do these kids any harm, and tomorrow night they’ll go back to their parents. No harm, no foul. Just you and me and enough money to live on for the rest of our lives.”

  “Their church better come through with the money.”

  “Trust me, they’ll come through with it. And they won’t hardly miss it.”

  She left for a few minutes and came back with peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches for both children.

  “Danke,” Ezra said politely.

  “You used red jelly.” Bobby couldn’t help himself. He was unhappy and needed to complain. “I only like purple jelly.”

  “That’s all I have,” she said. “And you’re lucky to get that.”

  “I don’t like red jelly.” He threw the sandwich onto the floor. “And I don’t like you.”

  She rolled her eyes at Junior. “You’re the one who decided to grab this one. Thanks a lot.”

  “How was I to know?” Junior shrugged. “They all look alike to me. All I wanted to do was take Luke Yoder’s kid. How was I to know he’d have a friend with him?”

  “I’m beginning to wish we’d never started this. Setting hay bales on fire and letting cattle loose is one thing. Kidnapping is another.”

  “Messing with those people was fun. They deserve it after what they did to our sister.”

  “Well, there is definitely something defective with this one. I’ve never seen an Amish child act like this.”

  “Go get some duct tape,” Junior said.

  “Go cool off. We get the money and we hand over the children—in as good a shape as we got them. Period. Now pick that sandwich up!” she said to Bobby. “And I don’t want to hear another word from you.”

  Silently, and with every movement screaming rebellion, Bobby picked up the sandwich and threw it into the overflowing trash can. He would rather go hungry than give these people the satisfaction of seeing him eat it.

  He sat back down on the floor close beside Ezra.

  “Please don’t make them any angrier,” Ezra whispered in their private language. “I’m afraid of what they will do to us.”

  “Don’t worry. Rachel will find us.”

  “How do you know? Maybe she can’t.”

  “Because she said she would. And if Rachel says she will, I know she will, because she always keeps her word.”

  “Just be a good boy,” Ezra warned. “If we’re nice, I think they’ll let us go when they get the money.”

  Bobby didn’t answer. He had absolutely no intention of being a good boy.

  Chapter 55

  Samuel called off the search party, but few Amish people went home. Instead, most of the men waited in the yard and on the porch, ready to help in any way they could. Some of the women quietly brought out the leftovers that Naomi had been putting away when the boys were taken.

  Those neighbors closest to the Yoders’ went home and brought back loaves of bread to slice for sandwiches and anything else they had that could be easily eaten. Fresh coffee was made. Dishes were washed and set out to be used again and again.

  Their mere presence was a source of comfort. The sound of the quiet murmuring of concern enveloped Rachel and helped keep her from screaming in her frustration and fear.

  And then her cell phone rang and everyone’s heads turned her way.

  “Rachel!” Bertha’s voice came over her cell phone loud and clear. “Why did you not tell us that Bobby is missing!”

  “I’ve had my hands full,” Rachel said. “How did you find out?”

  “The Amish grapevine, of course!” Bertha said. “And in all this time you could not make one short phone call to us?”

  “I didn’t want to worry you.”

  “Ach! That is like those foolish people who do not pray because they do not want to bother the Lord with their troubles. I will call a driver and we will be right over.”

  “No, Aunt Bertha, you know how Anna is about Bobby. I d
on’t think knowing he might be in danger would be good for her heart.”

  “You are right. I have another idea. Carl Bateman told me last week that he has begun training that smart dog of his for search-and-rescue. It was Doctor Peggy’s idea. Perhaps he should bring Shadow and see if he can track the boys.”

  “That wouldn’t do any good, I’m afraid.”

  “And why is that?”

  “They’ve been kidnapped. Stolen out of Ezra’s pony cart and carried away in some sort of vehicle.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “The kidnapper called. He wants one million dollars for each boy.”

  “They want a million dollars for our Bobby? Will you and Joe give it to them?”

  “Joe and I don’t have it, Aunt Bertha. Not even close.”

  “Nor do Luke and Naomi.”

  “I know,” Rachel said. “But right now I would do anything to get Bobby back.”

  “Then we will sell the farm. We have been offered more than that for it in the past. Perhaps Luke and Naomi’s people can find the money to ransom Ezra.”

  In spite of the turmoil and terror she was going through, Rachel’s heart melted at the old woman’s words. That place meant the world to Bertha, but not more to her than Bobby. Bertha would rather go homeless than risk the life of that little boy, and so would she. Rachel’s annoyance with Bertha over those yearly letters to Carl seemed childish right now.

  “Don’t do anything yet…”

  “The bishops want to talk with you,” Samuel said, interrupting.

  “I have to go, Aunt Bertha,” Rachel said. “I’ll call you when I know more.”

  Samuel took her to the back bedroom where the bishops had been meeting privately. Luke was there, along with Naomi.

  “We’ve decided that we cannot afford to give the kidnappers the money,” the oldest bishop said. “Even though there are many millions of dollars in the fund.”