Redeeming Grace and the Prodigal Son Returns

by Emma Miller

  Following the faint signs on the disturbed floor of dead leaves, Bram arrived at the edge of the woodlot about fifty feet from the trail. Here he found a cleared space littered with discarded cigarettes and a couple of empty bottles that told him one or two men had spent several hours here—maybe even several days. A short log had been stood on its end. From the number of cigarette butts on the ground around it, it looked as if someone had used it as a seat for a long time. Why?

  Bram sat on the stump. What he saw made his stomach clench. An opening had been cleared in the brambles, just big enough to give him a perfect view of the barn, house and fields. Someone had sat here watching the farm.

  Hezekiah must have found them, surprising them as he followed that stupid cow. Bram could see how the scene played out: two gangsters overpowering the old man, cracking his skull with a gun butt and then leaving him for dead.

  He leaned down and picked up an empty cigarette packet, not wanting to believe what he saw. They were Jose L. Piedra cigarettes from Cuba, Kavanaugh’s favorite. The only reason for Kavanaugh being here was that they had somehow tracked him down. Bram’s mouth went dry. He never thought his efforts to help out would put the old man in danger, but if Kavanaugh had found him here, at Hezekiah’s farm, who else had he unwittingly set up as a target?

  Turning slowly, his eyes pierced the shadowy depths of the woodlot. Surely with the crowd of searchers that had been on the farm that morning, the gangsters would have cleared out, but there was still a chance they could be hiding in the underbrush, waiting. Hand on his gun, Bram made his way to the path through the bushes and headed to the house, the spot between his shoulder blades itching the whole time.

  * * *

  Ellie stood with Miriam and Mam at Hezekiah’s bedside, listening to the doctor’s advice.

  “He has a concussion, which can be dangerous.” The Englisch doctor pulled the light summer quilt up to Hezekiah’s shoulders as he rose to his feet and gave Miriam’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

  “Keep him warm and quiet, and I wouldn’t let him get out of bed for a couple days. If there are any changes, or if he falls asleep and you’re not able to wake him, send for me right away.”

  Miriam nodded as the doctor snapped his black bag shut and followed Dat out of the room.

  “I’ll stay with you tonight, Miriam,” Mam said. “I know I can count on Ellie and the girls to take care of things at home for a day or two.”

  “Ja, of course,” Ellie said. She helped Miriam to her small rocking chair next to the bed and then stepped out of the room and headed to the quiet front porch. The creak of the front screen door as she pushed it open was a comforting reassurance that everything was going to be all right, in spite of the day’s turmoil.

  Her stomach did a flip when she saw Bram sitting on the porch swing. If yesterday’s conversation had never happened, she could have found some comfort in his presence. As it was, she folded her arms in front of her and stood in the gap between the front door and the swing. How could she mend this rift between them?

  “I thought everyone had gone home,” she said.

  Bram’s face was set in a worried frown, but why? Hezekiah was going to be fine.

  “Not yet,” he said. “I want to make sure everything is going to be okay.”

  “You heard the doctor. Hezekiah has a concussion, but he’ll recover.” Thanks to Bram.

  He didn’t answer, just looked toward the barn. His hands gripped the edge of the porch swing. Something more than Hezekiah was worrying him.

  “Bram, what’s wrong?”

  He slid over to make room for her next to him on the swing. Ellie sat, waiting for his answer.

  “Hezekiah’s injury wasn’t an accident.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He came across that man I told you about—Kavanaugh.” Bram swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

  “But how would he? I mean, what does that man have to do with Hezekiah?”

  He turned to her, his eyes dark. “Me. He must have tracked me here one day and then waited for me to come back. He’s been hiding in the woodlot, and Hezekiah must have surprised him last night.”

  “Where is he now?”

  Bram shook his head, his face stony. “I have no idea.” He sighed, looking toward the barn and the fields beyond it once more.

  Ellie felt the thrill of fear that tales of wolves had given her when she was a little girl. She would look into the trees and imagine them lurking there, waiting to pounce when she wasn’t looking. But this fear had a name. This wolf was real.

  Bram took her hand, running his thumb across the back of it, and then with a sudden groan, he gathered her to him. Ellie clung close, pressing her ear against his chest, his steady heartbeat reassuring her of his strength. He would protect her, if he could.

  He pressed her closer to him and kissed the top of her head. “Ellie,” he whispered, “I couldn’t bear it if he hurt you.”

  “He won’t, Bram.” She tried to smile as he released her enough to lift her chin and look into her face. “Between you, Dat and my brothers, I’m very well protected.”

  “I’d like to believe that.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I’m sorry about what I said yesterday. I’ve been miserable ever since then, knowing we disagree.”

  She nodded. That same disagreement still hung between them.

  “I won’t rest until I find Kavanaugh. You know that.”

  A cold screw twisted her heart.

  “That isn’t our way, Bram. Vengeance belongs to the Lord.”

  “This isn’t vengeance, Ellie. This is my job.” His hand lingered on her cheek, and then he rose so abruptly he sent the swing rocking. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  Ellie nodded, regretting the rift that widened between them.

  “Ja, tomorrow at church.”

  * * *

  Bram drummed his fingers on the desk in the telephone booth at the exchange as he waited for the operator to make the connection.

  “Peters here.”

  “It’s Dutch.”

  “Dutch, are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine, but I’m worried about Kavanaugh. Do you have any news?”

  “The information you gave us so far was right on the mark. Kavanaugh has been expanding operations into South Bend, Fort Wayne, Toledo and Detroit. We were able to track down one of his boys in South Bend, and the thug sang like a canary.”

  Bram wiped his face with his handkerchief and propped the door of the telephone booth open to let in some air. If Peters had done his job, then who had attacked Hezekiah?

  “So you got Kavanaugh?”

  “That’s just it. We rounded up a dozen of his men, but he was nowhere to be found.”

  Bram rubbed his palm on his pant leg. So he was right about Kavanaugh hunting for him. The gangster was getting desperate.

  Peters went on. “That stool pigeon told us Kavanaugh went out west. That he is working in Los Angeles now.”

  Bram’s mouth was dry. “He’s not in California—he’s here. He almost killed an old man last night, a man who owns a farm I’ve been working on.”

  There was silence on the other end, and then Peters cleared his throat.

  “It looks like your cover is gone, Dutch. You need to get out of there.”

  Bram leaned his head against the wooden side of the telephone booth. Peters was right. “Ja, es richtig....”

  “Dutch? Are you still there?”

  “Yes, I’m here. I said you’re right. I’ll call if I need anything, but I hope you don’t hear from me.”

  “Right. And, Dutch, take care of yourself.”

  Bram hung up the telephone. The tables were turned again, and he was no longer the hunter. As long as the snake was still around, he c
ouldn’t risk staying here.

  He sighed and slumped against the side of the telephone booth. Just when he had begun to hope...but no. Home and family? They weren’t for him. He was a fool to think his life could be anything more than hunting down men like Kavanaugh. Ellie deserved more than that, much more.

  But there was one thing he could do for her. He could draw Kavanaugh away from here, away from Ellie and this community. Once he drew him far enough away, he’d make sure the gangster never got a chance to come back.

  Bram rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly aware of how long this day had been. And it had been the last day. He had no illusions about what could happen when he offered himself as bait, but he couldn’t hope to get rid of that snake without sacrificing himself.

  There was one last risk he would take, though. If Kavanaugh hadn’t found him by morning, he’d attend the Sunday meeting. He couldn’t bear to leave without seeing Ellie one more time.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Mornings on church Sundays usually started early, but this one was even earlier for Ellie. Since Mam had stayed with the Millers last night, Ellie took on the task of getting the entire family ready for Sunday meeting. She was thankful for the long ride in the buggy to Amos Troyer’s. The children rode quietly, making up for their lost sleep after an early breakfast.

  Watching the passing fields, Ellie tried to quell the sinking feeling in her stomach. What would she say when she saw Bram? Was he still set on taking revenge for Hezekiah’s wound? He had said it wasn’t vengeance—but could it really be anything else?

  “We have much to be thankful for today, knowing Hezekiah is safe,” Dat said. He seldom spoke on the drive to meeting, using the time to pray about what he would say if he were asked to give the sermon.

  “Ja, we do, but I can’t help worrying about them. How will they live on their farm?”

  Dat reached over and laid his hand on hers. “Gott knows their needs. Reuben is going to live with them for the rest of the summer and into the fall, and after that, we’ll see what Gott has planned. Keep trusting Him.”

  * * *

  Caution still dogged Bram as he tended to his few chores before church. If Kavanaugh knew where he was, what was keeping him from showing his face? Driving through the still, morning air, he kept his eyes and ears open, but there was no sign of the Packard.

  Bram set a mask over his frayed nerves as he drove into the Troyers’ crowded farmyard. No one could suspect this would be his last time with them.

  As he drove past the congregation lined up outside the barn, he caught sight of Ellie greeting another woman. She glanced toward him and gave him a smile, making his heart soar in spite of the thoughts of Kavanaugh hovering on all sides.

  He joined the line of men just as the congregation started into the barn, and he chose a seat where he wouldn’t be tempted to glance at Ellie during the service. She was by far the most beautiful woman there, but Bram grew cold every time he thought of what could happen if Kavanaugh knew about her. His gut twisted as he remembered the bloody gash on Hezekiah’s head, but instead of the old man’s matted gray hair, he saw Ellie’s fine brown hair and kapp.

  As Bishop Yoder and the ministers rose to go to an upstairs room for prayer, one of the older men started the first phrase of Das Loblied, and Bram joined in the familiar hymn with the congregation, his mind still on the gangster. If Kavanaugh was looking for him, wouldn’t it be smart for him to lie low? But then how long would it take for him to stop feeling as if danger was stalking him? He would never get there. He’d always be looking over his shoulder. How long could he live that way?

  Then, as he looked up between hymns, Bram saw Ellie lean forward slightly, right into his field of vision. Her lips were parted in a smile as she whispered something to Susan, and her face held a look Bram hadn’t seen before—joy, contentment. He couldn’t stop staring at her. Longing for her filled his heart.

  Bram knew what he had to do, in spite of the ache in his chest. Or because of it. As soon as Sunday meeting was over, he would leave. He’d leave Partner and the buggy at Matthew’s, along with what was left of the cash he had. He could leave a note telling Matthew to give everything to Ellie. From there it wouldn’t take long to walk to the highway, and then he could hitch a ride somewhere. Anywhere but Chicago. Anywhere but here.

  Kavanaugh would follow him, with any luck—he’d leave a big enough trail—and it really didn’t matter where the gangster caught up with him, as long as Ellie was safe.

  He forced his eyes away from Ellie and her family. He was aware of the service continuing as one of the ministers prayed, but his mind was occupied in a war. He knew what he should do, but could he do it? He had never met a woman like Ellie. The thought of leaving her, of never seeing her again, pulled his heart in one direction, and then the knowledge of what could happen if Kavanaugh knew how much he cared about her sent cold fingers yanking him in another.

  Bram forced his hands to unclench, willing himself to relax. He had to remember where he was. Matthew was sitting in front of him; Reuben and Benjamin Stoltzfus were to his right. Welcome Yoder was two benches in front of him, sitting next to Eli Schrock. These men had accepted him into their community, helped him on his farm and given him their time and advice. Could he turn his back on them? In the past few weeks he had gotten a taste of what the church could be, what his heritage could give him, and all he planned to do was use them and throw them away.

  As soon as the service ended, Bram made his way through the men to the side of the barn. He glanced behind him as he slipped out the door, but the milling crowd cheated him out of one last look at Ellie. He closed the door, ignoring the sinking feeling in his belly.

  She’s just a woman.

  Who was he kidding? There wasn’t another woman like her.

  He rounded the corner of the barn, heading toward the parked buggies, but stopped short when he saw John Stoltzfus waiting for him.

  “Good morning, Bram.”

  “Good morning, John.”

  “I was hoping to talk to you.”

  Bram quelled the retort that came to his lips—words from his own anxiety. He couldn’t speak to this man like that. Now that John had stopped him, he wouldn’t be able to make his quick escape anyway. He mentally closed the door on his plans and forced himself to turn his attention to the older man.

  “I was watching you during the meeting.” John paused, pretending to study the buggies lined up in the field.

  Bram waited. He knew John well enough to know that he would get to his point sooner if he let him do it in his own time, no matter how anxious he was to get going.

  “Is something bothering you? You seemed distracted.”

  Bram almost choked. Ja, he was certainly distracted, but he thought he was better at hiding it than that. One thing Bram had learned over the past several weeks was just how deep John’s perception of people went.

  “Ja, I’ve been worried about Hezekiah, just like everyone else. It kept me from paying attention to the meeting as I should have.” If he gave John a partial explanation, maybe he would leave it at that. Once Bram was out of the area, Kavanaugh would be old news.

  John turned to look at him.

  “You’ve been on my mind a lot lately. Your name keeps coming to me at odd moments, and I always pray for you when it does.” Bram didn’t know what to say. Had anyone ever prayed for him before? “It can’t be easy leaving your old life behind.”

  He doesn’t know the half of it, Bram thought, but without the bitterness of a couple months ago. He felt an urge to confide in John—to warn him about Kavanaugh, about his part in the gang and the danger he had brought to this community—but the calm acceptance in John’s eyes stopped him before he even started. He couldn’t talk about the sordid things he was involved in. Not here, not now, not among these people. Once he left, it would all
be over for them anyway.

  “Ne, it isn’t,” Bram said. “I lived that way for many years, and old habits are hard to get rid of.”

  John nodded, waiting for him to go on. How much could he confess? John deserved to know.

  “I’ve seen an old acquaintance around.”

  “Someone from Chicago.” John’s words were a statement, not a question. “Someone you don’t want to run into again.”

  “I did some things there that...well, that I’m not proud of.” Bram swallowed. He had already said more than he should, but he felt that silken coil again, urging him on. “I want to just leave them behind me, along with the people I knew there.”

  John’s eyes were piercing. Could he see the details Bram was leaving out? Bram wasn’t sure how much this man had already guessed.

  “If you left any unfinished business, you should resolve that before trying to move on. Otherwise, you’ll never be free of your past.”

  Bram rubbed the back of his neck as John paused.

  “I heard an automobile go by our farm last night. A big, powerful one. No one around here owns a machine like that.” John looked at him again. “It went by twice.”

  Bram’s hand automatically went to the pocket where he carried his gun. He closed his cold fingers around the grip.

  “You don’t need your gun.”

  He shot a glance at the older man. How...

  “Ach, ja, I’ve known about it for a long time.”

  Bram dropped his pretense. It looked as if John knew everything.

  “John, this guy is dangerous. I need my gun.”

  “We are a people of peace, Bram. Guns have no place in our lives.”

  Bram looked away, anywhere but into the older man’s face. John had no idea how violent life could be outside this community. Violence had to be dealt with or else innocent people would be hurt, people like Hezekiah.

  “I need to protect myself. I need to protect the people around me.”

  “Do you believe Gott can protect you?”