Redeeming Grace and the Prodigal Son Returns

by Emma Miller

  Did he believe that? Ja, up to a point...but at what cost?

  “I don’t know,” he answered John truthfully. “I’m not convinced that Gott’s protection works against bullets.”

  “Perhaps bullets aren’t what you need to worry about.” Not worry about bullets? What could be worse? What was he talking about? “Put your trust in Him, Bram.” John paused until Bram looked at him. “Your very soul is in danger, and, more important, the soul of the other man. If he commits a heinous sin because of your actions...” John shook his head at his own words. “There are things more important than our lives.”

  Bram looked away again. He wished he could have that confidence, but he knew too much. He had seen too much.

  “I have to go.”

  “Bram.” John stopped him with a hand on his arm. “I’ll still be praying for you.”

  Bram nodded his thanks and then continued to his buggy.

  * * *

  By the time Bram was within sight of his farm, his plan was set. He had to protect Ellie at all costs. If he survived somehow, could he come back eventually? And see Ellie married to another man? Someone like Levi Zook? The thought made his hands clench. No, he had to leave for good.

  As he turned the horse into the barnyard, he saw it. The maroon Packard sat along the side of his barn, out of sight until he turned into the drive. The knot that had been growing in his stomach all morning exploded.

  He sawed on Partner’s reins, trying to get the horse to turn, but it was too late. Kavanaugh sauntered out of the barn, followed by Charlie Harris’s lumbering form. Kavanaugh’s face was stony, but Charlie’s grin turned Bram’s feet to ice. Running was out of the question. Bram couldn’t pray. He put all his strength into keeping his voice steady.

  “Hello, Kavanaugh. I didn’t expect to see you around here.”

  The gangster’s thin face twisted into a sneer as he gave Bram a cold smile. “I was surprised—but very happy—to see you while I was doing some business in Goshen a couple weeks ago.”

  Bram put an amazed look on his face. “I didn’t see you there, but then, I’ve been busy.”

  “I can’t help being curious to know—” Kavanaugh took a drag from his cigarette, measuring his words “—what you would be doing in that hick town, dressed like some—” he gestured with his cigarette toward Bram, the buggy, his Plain clothes “—like some farmer.” He emphasized the last word with derision and then took another drag. Bram waited. Kavanaugh’s right hand was tucked under his suit jacket, where he would have quick access to his gun.

  “And then when I happened to see you at that old man’s farm—” the cigarette smoke plumed from Kavanaugh’s mouth and nose as he spoke “—I couldn’t believe my luck.”

  He pulled another lungful of smoke from the cigarette.

  “I didn’t like it when you slipped away from us last night, you and that buggy.” He exhaled the smoke. “I’m glad we finally tracked you down.” The gangster paused and tapped some ash off the cigarette with a flick of his finger. “What happened to the Studebaker, Dutch?”

  Bram was silent. He knew better than to respond when Kavanaugh was trying to bait him. Charlie, off to Bram’s left, still grinned and flexed his hands.

  “You left Chicago in a hurry and didn’t tell anyone where you were going, and around that same time some G-men showed up, knocking on our door. That makes me wonder what you’re up to. I wasn’t sure where to even begin looking for you until I saw you on that farm wagon a few weeks ago.”

  Bram still didn’t answer. Anything he said to Kavanaugh now would only make things worse for him.

  Kavanaugh stood at the horse’s side, eyes even more narrow than usual, staring at Bram. He threw his cigarette butt on the ground and twisted it into the dust with his heel. Without taking his eyes off Bram, he beckoned to Charlie.

  “Get him down.”

  Charlie wasn’t the type to be gentle at his work. He reached up and grabbed the front of Bram’s coat, then pulled him off the seat as easily as a kitten. Charlie held him up; his feet brushed the dirt of the drive.

  “Shall we go into the barn?” Kavanaugh’s polite words mocked the desperate situation Bram was in. Unless a miracle happened, he was a goner.

  Without waiting for an answer, Kavanaugh turned and led the way as Charlie dragged Bram after him. Dust motes swirled in the sunbeams, throwing bars across the shaded interior. Charlie backed Bram into the support beam with a shove, holding him with his arm across Bram’s chest. Cigarette butts littered the dirt floor. They must have been waiting for him all morning.

  Bram looked toward the roof as Kavanaugh closed the barn door. Thank Gott he had been able to see Ellie one last time.

  Charlie patted him down, finding his gun. The thug stuck it in the waistband of his pants. When Bram eyed it, Charlie saw the direction of his gaze and slammed an elbow into his ribs.

  “I wouldn’t have taken you for a churchgoing chump,” Kavanaugh began, lighting another cigarette. After taking a puff, he turned the burning end around, staring at it as if he had never seen the glowing tip before. “We don’t like stool pigeons, Dutch. You know that. You betrayed me, and no one gets away with that. Want to tell us what you told the feds?”

  * * *

  Ellie watched Dat closely. Ever since the meeting ended and the women started preparing dinner, he’d paced at the edges of the crowd. When she glanced his way, he was often looking toward the road, where Bram’s buggy had disappeared.

  She hadn’t noticed Bram leaving until he was already on the road, his horse trotting away at a fast pace. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had left Sunday meeting early, before the meal and fellowship afterward. But if something had been wrong, wouldn’t he tell her?

  Not long after the meal ended, Dat found Ellie as she talked to yet another concerned woman about Hezekiah and Miriam. “It’s time to go.” His voice was gruff, short, and Ellie knew she shouldn’t delay. Dat was never in a hurry without a reason.

  By the time Ellie had gathered her children, Dat was waiting with the buggy. Mandy and Rebecca followed.

  “But why can’t we stay and come home with Reuben?” Rebecca asked as they climbed into the buggy.

  Ellie turned to help Susan settle in the backseat between the girls. “Because the boys aren’t coming home until late, after the singing.”

  Even as Ellie spoke, she gave Dat a questioning glance. Why the hurry?

  Dat didn’t speak, but started the horse off at a quick trot. When he reached the end of the lane, he turned west, instead of east toward home. Now what?

  “Dat,” said Ellie, leaning close so the children in the back didn’t hear, “is something bothering you?”

  “I had a conversation with Bram earlier. I’m a bit worried about him, and I thought we’d drive past his place on the way home, just to check if things are all right.”

  Ellie felt a cold chill, even though Dat’s voice was calm. She trusted her father’s judgment. He was able to read people so well, some thought he had a gift. If he felt this concerned after talking with Bram...

  Had Bram found that man he was looking for? Fear wrapped its icy fingers around her heart. Bram was in danger.

  The girls hadn’t caught Dat’s tension. They chattered like birds as they played a game with Susan and Johnny in the backseat, Rebecca holding Danny on her lap.

  Did that man, Kavanaugh, have something to do with why Bram had left church so early? In fact, he hadn’t even looked at her all through the service. Ellie worried the inside of her lip. It wasn’t like him to ignore her completely.

  When Dat turned onto Bram’s road, Ellie saw Partner in the lane between the gravel road and Bram’s barn, but why wasn’t he tied? For some reason Bram had just left the horse unattended, and Partner had pulled the buggy partway into the grass. As she watched,
Partner took another step toward the long grass at the edge of the cornfield and the buggy tilted, along with her stomach. Where was Bram?

  Dat pulled to a stop at the end of Bram’s lane and handed the reins to Ellie. “You take the children home. I’m going to check on Bram.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  Dat looked at her, weighing his decision. Finally he nodded. “Mandy, you drive the buggy on home and look after the children.”

  Mandy gave Ellie a mystified look as she obediently climbed into Dat’s place and took the reins.

  “We won’t be long.” Ellie smiled at her little sister as she climbed down. “It will be fine.”

  Dat waited until Mandy had driven off before turning to Ellie.

  “There’s something going on, and Bram may need help. I’m going to check the barn.”

  Ellie followed Dat as he walked toward the barn, glancing into Bram’s buggy as he went.

  Ellie crossed the lane to the other side, where she’d have a clearer view of the barn door, and stopped short. There was an automobile parked alongside the barn, out of sight until she’d seen it from this angle. What was going on here? Her mind flashed back to Bram’s face when he had first told her about this man, this Kavanaugh. Could the automobile belong to him?

  Dat reached the barn and paused, leaning against the wall next to the door as if he was listening to something. What? Was there someone inside with Bram? Ellie’s stomach clenched.

  She could hear indistinct sounds from inside the barn. Men’s voices. She had to hear what they were saying.

  She slipped up next to Dat, and they both listened to the men inside the barn.

  “You’re tougher than I thought.” Ellie didn’t recognize the voice, but she didn’t want to meet the man it belonged to.

  “It’s no use, Kavanaugh. Peters knows where you are.” Bram sounded weary but not afraid. “I talked to him yesterday. He’s on his way here right now.”

  “Charlie, stand him up again.”

  There was a scuffling noise as Charlie obeyed the first voice.

  So there were at least two men in the barn with Bram.

  “Work him over some more. I have to know how much he told the feds.”

  A sickening sound filtered through the barn wall—the sound of something hard hitting flesh. Ellie’s head pounded, and the icy fingers tightened around her heart. That was the sound of Bram being beaten. Dat knew it, too. He gave Ellie a hard look that ordered her to stay back and then rammed his shoulder against the barn doors, forcing them open with a crash of splintered wood.

  The two men looked up, surprise and anger twisting both of their faces. Ellie took in the whole scene in one glance through the open door. Bram was pinned against a beam by a huge man, his face bloody and raw. He looked straight at Ellie, and fear filled his eyes when he recognized her. Dat walked into the barn, his hands outstretched in an effort to calm the situation, watching the big man.

  Then Ellie saw the smaller man, his clean, tailored suit a stark contrast to Bram’s torn and bloody clothes. His eyes on Dat, he threw a cigarette down and in one fluid motion pulled a pistol from beneath his suit jacket.

  Ellie’s feet were lead. She must keep that man from using his gun. She ran forward and grasped the cloth of his sleeve. He spun around, swinging the gun toward her face, his eyes sharp with evil intentions. The blow caught Ellie on the side of her head as she turned away from him, then he had no more regard for her than a fly he had just swatted away.

  As she fell to the floor, Ellie was horrified to see him raise his gun again, pointing it toward Dat.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The crash of the barn door brought Bram to his senses. Was he dreaming? No, the sharp pain in his ribs was all too real. John strode into the barn between Kavanaugh and Charlie, holding out a hand toward each, a gentle smile on his face. Bram sent a quick prayer for Gott to protect this brave, foolish man. Charlie froze, his suspicious eyes on John.

  “Surely, brother, we can talk about our differences without resorting to violence,” John said, his voice calm in the charged air.

  Bram looked past him to Ellie standing in the barn door, and the fog cleared out of his mind with a rush.

  No, she can’t be here!

  Charlie turned toward John, readying a ham-size fist at shoulder level. Without the thug’s hand pinning him against the supporting beam, Bram swayed. The air around him turned black. Staggering, he shook his head, trying to clear his sight. When he looked up again, the first thing he saw was Kavanaugh backhanding Ellie. He gathered what strength he had to go to her aid, but when Kavanaugh’s hand lifted, the snub nose of the pistol pointing straight at John, Bram changed direction and sprang to his left, shoving John over just as Kavanaugh’s finger squeezed the trigger of the gun.

  He and John skidded to the floor as Kavanaugh’s gun roared in the small barn. Bram rolled to his knees—Ellie was still in danger—and stopped as he faced Charlie’s prostrate form on the dirt floor beside him, a bloom of red blood soaking his shirt’s shoulder. Bram’s pistol was still tucked in Charlie’s waistband, right in front of his eyes. He grabbed it and turned to face Kavanaugh, every nerve focused on his target.

  The gangster’s face was calm, his eyes like steel. Bram had seen that look before—the man was determined to kill. Deliberately, Bram raised the gun in his hand to meet Kavanaugh’s stare.

  “Drop your gun.” His voice croaked, but he was able to force the words out. Blood ran into his mouth from a split lip, and he spit it out.

  Kavanaugh’s lip curled in the sneer that was his trademark. “No cop is going to take me.”

  The snub nose of Kavanaugh’s gun steadied as the gangster’s finger tightened on the trigger. Bram shot at the same time. His body jerked as Kavanaugh’s bullet hit his chest, and he fell into blackness.

  * * *

  The small man fell to the ground, but Ellie didn’t look at him as she flew to Bram. Dat reached him first, turning him on his back. The wound was just a blackened hole in Bram’s shirt, but as Ellie watched, blood began spurting out of it.

  “Good,” Dat said as he propped up Bram’s head. “He’s still alive.”

  Stars whirled around Ellie, the icy grip on her heart squeezing mercilessly. Dat gripped her arm, covering it with Bram’s blood.

  “I need your help, Ellie. We need to get him to a doctor.”

  Ellie swallowed. Bram’s face was pale, and blood was everywhere. Just like Daniel.

  “What do I need to do?” Her voice cracked in a whisper of breath.

  Dat removed his jacket and tore off his shirt. Wadding it up, he pressed against the wound.

  “Keep pressure on this.”

  Ellie pressed her hand against Dat’s shirt, Bram’s warm blood pulsing against her cold fingers.

  “We need to get him to town. We’ll take that automobile outside.”

  “The automobile?”

  Dat looked at Ellie, his eyes grave. “This is a matter of life or death. It’s here, so we’ll use it.”

  Ellie kept pressure on Bram’s wounds, walking beside Dat as he carried him to the big maroon machine. She sat on the backseat with Bram’s head in her lap as Dat returned to the barn and carried the small gangster to the automobile. The man was barely conscious as Dat set him in the front seat, and he slumped against the door.

  Dat sat in the driver’s seat, pausing to study the controls.

  “Can you make it work?”

  Dat gave her a grim smile as he turned on the motor. “Ja, I drove an ambulance during the war, remember? It wasn’t too much different from this.”

  “What about the other man?” Ellie tried to remember if he was dead or only hurt.

  “He’ll be all right. I tied him to the barn post, and I’ll send someone to get him when we
get to the hospital.”

  Once Dat figured out the controls of the automobile, the trip into Goshen was faster than Ellie had ever experienced. Dat knew more about driving than Ellie imagined, but the machine still bucked and stuttered as he tried to make it speed along the dusty road.

  Bram lay deathly still for the entire trip, his head resting in her lap. Ellie watched his pale face as she leaned over him, keeping her fingers pressed against the makeshift bandages. She tried to pray, but the words didn’t survive the icy grip on her heart. Memories of Daniel flooded her mind. Once again she was helpless, hopeless, watching the man she loved as he lay dying. With every breath that made his chest rise beneath her fingers, she took a breath herself. Which one would be his last?

  Ellie blinked back tears, watching Bram’s face. She loved him. Her mind embraced what she had feared all along. Could she love him? Love meant risking her heart, risking loss again. Could she bear that?

  As Dat pulled up to the hospital, the car’s engine sputtered and died. Ellie stayed with Bram as Dat ran into the building, her numb hands pressed against Bram’s wounds. The automobile’s door swung open, and a man in white looked in.

  “We’ll take it from here, ma’am.”

  As they took Bram and put him on a wheeled cot, Ellie’s hands fell uselessly into her lap. She watched the small man, Kavanaugh, being wheeled into the hospital behind Bram. What could she do now?

  Dat opened the door next to her.

  “Come, daughter. We’ll wait for news inside.”

  Ellie looked down at her bloody hands and dress. Dat’s Sunday coat was just as bad.

  “Like this?”

  Dat smiled at her, but the smile didn’t change the worried look in his eyes.

  “Ja. This is a hospital. They’re used to these things here.”

  Ellie let Dat help her into one of the chairs lining the hall just inside the door of the hospital. Englischers were everywhere, even on a Sunday afternoon. Dat went to the desk to use the telephone while she sat. Her hands shook as she stared at the blood that covered them. Bram’s blood.