by Emma Miller
Caleb looked at Ray. “You, Ray?”
Ray shook his head. “I was pretty wild when I was their age, and they all know it. My Paul said as much to me. He said they weren’t doing anything wrong, but they are. The world is a temptation our kids aren’t equipped to face. First it will be drugs, then who knows what? You’ve heard what goes on in Kansas with some of the young people? Drinking alcohol and worse.”
Caleb nodded. “I have, and it troubles me. To think that children raised in the faith could stray so far.”
“Amen to that,” Ray agreed. “It’s why we’ve come, why we ask you to meet with these kids, try to convince them that they are on the path to real trouble.”
“You say some of our teenagers are involved?” Caleb asked. “Do you have names to give me?”
“Only three I know for sure,” Thomas answered. “Vernon and Elmer Beachy and their cousin, Irwin Beachy. He lives with the schoolteacher, Hannah Yoder.”
Chapter Twelve
“Irwin?” Rebecca said to Caleb. “I’ve heard rumors about these Reapers, but I had no idea that Irwin was involved. Mam will have him cleaning the stables until he’s twenty-one!” It was all Rebecca had been able to do to remain out of sight in the parlor until the visitors were gone. But she’d heard every word the men exchanged.
“It’s a bad business.” Caleb glanced in the direction of the parlor.
“It’s all right,” Rebecca assured him, knowing he was concerned Amelia might overhear them. “She’s playing with her doll on the rug near the fireplace where it’s warm.” The parlor and that section of the house were heated with a new pellet stove that stood on a tile platform in a fireplace. There was a child-protection screen to keep Amelia from falling against it and getting burned.
Caleb glanced up at the clock and then out the window. “Grace is late.”
“I know.” Snow was still falling, but there was no wind, and it didn’t appear to Rebecca that a storm was brewing. “She’s usually on time. Something must have delayed her.” She began to take the dirty coffee mugs to the sink.
“Leave them,” Caleb said, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “I can do that later.”
She slipped into the chair across from him. “So, what are you going to do about the boys? It is just boys, isn’t it? They didn’t say any of our girls were involved, did they?”
Caleb’s brow furrowed and he rubbed his fingertips along his scarred cheek. “Ne, no Amish girls, but some English. Maybe Charley would have some ideas of what to say to our kids.”
She thought for a moment before she spoke. “You know I love Charley. He’s been like a brother to me since he and Miriam married, but I’d trust your judgment before I would his—on something like this. Charley is...” She sought the right word. “Innocent. He’s really like a big kid himself. I think you’re a better choice in this situation. You’ll find a way to guide these boys back to the right path.”
Caleb folded his arms and looked at her. “You think I’m up to it?”
“I know you are,” she answered.
He nodded. For once, the rigid mask slipped, and Rebecca could see the man behind it: the Caleb who wasn’t bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders. “It’s good you think so,” he said. “I have doubts about myself, doubts about being chosen as a preacher for our church. I failed my family once, when it mattered, and I guess I’m always afraid that...”
“You didn’t fail.” She extended her hand across the table, and Caleb’s lean, scarred fingers closed around hers. What was strange was that she barely felt the scars. Instead, she felt the strength. “What happened with your wife. You tried to save her, but bad things happen sometimes.” She pressed her lips together. “I think trying to do the right thing now is what God wants of us.”
He squeezed her hand and then released it, leaving her with a sense of loss. She could still feel the power and the warmth of his grip, and she wanted it again. “Caleb...”
Once, when she was small, when the family was just getting ready for dinner, Mam had asked her to keep an eye on Susanna. But she and her sisters were playing tag, and she forgot. When she remembered to look for Susanna, she found that she’d chased a duck out onto the frozen pond. Only, it was March, and the ice wasn’t solid.
Ruth had run for Dat, but Rebecca had been afraid that the ice would crack and Susanna would fall in and drown. Instead of getting a clothes pole like Ruth had told her, she’d crept out on the pond. By the time she got to Susanna, ice had splintered under her weight in long thin cracks like spiderwebs.
Rebecca had been terrified, trying not to cry, and all the while, Susanna was laughing and pointing at the pretty patterns in the ice. Rebecca had gotten hold of her sister’s hand and together they had crawled, inch by inch, back toward the bank.
“Stay where you are!” Leah had screamed. “Wait for Dat! Stay there!”
But, some inner voice had warned her that she had to keep moving. If they stopped, they’d sink into that deep, cold water. They’d reached solid land safely, but she had never forgotten the terrifying sensation of ice bending beneath her feet. She felt like that now, with Caleb, afraid to remain where she was and terrified to move forward.
“I know you can do this,” she told him firmly.
He stood and began to pace the linoleum floor. “It seems you have more faith in me than I do.” He paused near the doorway and glanced back at her. “How does a young woman gain so much confidence about a man she hardly knows?”
She leaned forward. “You weren’t the only one surprised when you were chosen as our new preacher. Everyone was. You were new to Seven Poplars. No one really knew what you were like. And you were a widower who hadn’t remarried. I’ve never heard of a preacher who didn’t have a wife when he was called.”
“And?”
“I’m just a woman, but I try to follow the teachings of the church. I read my Bible and I pray every day, but I’m not wise. All I know is that God chose you. And if He believes in you, Caleb, why shouldn’t I?”
A smiled softened the curves of his lips. “It sounds so simple when you say it, Rebecca. Sensible.” He chuckled. “I hope you’re right—”
The sound of a car horn outside brought Rebecca to her feet. “That must be Grace.” She reached for her cloak and the heavy mittens Mam had insisted she wear when she walked over this morning. “It will be all right,” she told him.
He held her gaze for a long moment, then turned away. “Amelia! Rebecca’s leaving. Come say good night.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Rebecca’s feet felt heavy. She didn’t want to leave, but she knew she had to. Her hand still tingled where Caleb had touched her and her chest felt tight. Was this what it felt like to love a man? Love? She shivered, but it was a shiver of excitement, not fear. She knew that it was too late to go back. Coming here, being part of Caleb and Amelia’s household had become more than a job.
Amelia came running for a hug and Rebecca bent to embrace her.
“Thank you,” Caleb said.
“I didn’t do anything,” she answered breathlessly as they walked to the back door and she opened it.
“You did,” he insisted, swinging Amelia up into his arms. He opened the back door for Rebecca. “More than you’ll ever know. I just want you to know I appreciate it.”
The driver’s door opened and Grace stepped out of the SUV. “Sorry,” she called. “I was held up on Route 1. A chicken truck jackknifed and both lanes were closed. There were chickens everywhere.”
“How terrible.” Rebecca hurried out of the house, closing the door behind her, putting distance between her and Caleb. “Was anyone injured?”
Grace shook her head. “I don’t think so. It was just the truck, no other vehicles. It must have been the slippery road.”
Big snowflakes coated the SUV, the ground
, the house and buildings and Grace’s mane of curly red hair, covered only by a tiny lace prayer cap. Rebecca hugged her.
Grace was dressed in a jean skirt, a sweater topped by a leather coat and boots to her knees. “Johanna will have our heads for delaying her supper,” she said. “I hope she hasn’t worried.”
Rebecca went around to the passenger’s door and got in. The heater was running, and the automobile was toasty warm. “Wait until you hear what I just found out about Irwin,” she said. “He is in so much in trouble.”
“He’s not the only one.” Grace pointed. “At the crossroads, I had to slam on my brakes and swerve to keep from hitting that old buggy that Elmer Beachy’s been driving—the one decked out in red-and-green Christmas lights.”
“What?” Rebecca stared at her. “Are you sure it was Elmer?”
“Certain. He had a bunch of other boys in there with him. Some of them were hanging out the back door, yelling and waving, acting stupid. I wondered what Lydia was thinking, letting them take a horse and buggy out on a night like this.”
“What direction were they going?”
“They turned on to Thompson’s dirt lane, the one that runs along the edge of his property line. I don’t know where they were going. It’s not likely the kids would be having a bonfire tonight, in this weather, is it?”
“Did you see Irwin with them?”
Grace shook her head as she turned the key in the ignition. “No, but I wouldn’t have recognized Elmer if it wasn’t for the Christmas lights and his horse. It was a paint. Almost every Amish man in this county drives a bay. Elmer’s horse is brown and white. Plus he was wearing that beat-up cowboy hat of his.” She put the SUV in Reverse. “I talked to John. He swung by and picked up ’Kota after work, so if Johanna’s invitation is still open—”
“Stop!” Rebecca exclaimed. “Stop the car.”
Grace applied the brakes. “What’s wrong?” She squinted. “Chickens in the driveway?”
“Ne, worse. A lot worse.” Rebecca unfastened her seat belt. “There’s something Caleb and I have to do right away. Can you take Amelia to Johanna’s?”
“Sure, but why?”
“I’ll explain later,” she said getting out of the car. “But if those Beachy boys are up to no good and Irwin is with them, I’ve got to try to stop it.”
“How much trouble could they cause on a private dirt road?”
“You’d be surprised.”
* * *
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Caleb said. “How are we ever going to find that buggy? It’s been a good twenty minutes since Grace saw the boys at the crossroads.” He slapped the reins over his horse’s back and guided the animal down the blacktop.
There were few cars and trucks on the road. It was still snowing, and Rebecca hadn’t seen a single Amish person since they’d left Caleb’s house. She sat up straight on the cushioned buggy seat, very conscious of Caleb only inches away. Being unchaperoned with him on a woods road at night was definitely stretching the rules, but the members of the Seven Poplars church district were sensible. If she and Caleb could show they’d been on an errand of supervision—keeping Amish kids out of trouble—the breach would be forgiven.
“We might be able to catch up with them if they took the Thompson lane,” she explained. The Thompsons were Englishers. “They may not know that there’s a new gate on the far side of the woods. The owners just put it up this week. Mam heard at Spence’s that Thompson’s nephew had reported someone breaking into his uncle’s abandoned farmhouse. The police advised him to put up a locked gate to keep people from driving back to the farm. They rent out the land to a farmer, but no one has lived in the house for twenty years. It doesn’t even have electricity anymore.”
“What makes you think Elmer Beachy and our boys would break into that house?” The lazy, fat snowflakes had given way to smaller flakes that were now coming down as if they had no intention of stopping until the snow lay six inches deep. The temperature had dropped in the past hour, and Rebecca was glad of the thick wool blanket that Caleb had brought from the house and insisted that she tuck around her lap and legs.
“You’re new to Kent County, so there’s no way you’d know. About five years ago, some English teenagers were using the farmhouse as a place to hold parties. They got pretty wild and even started a fire in the fireplace. Some parents caught on and called the authorities before someone was hurt or the house burned down. So it wouldn’t surprise me if the same kids who were now having bonfire parties decided to use the old Thompson place. There are no neighbors, and the house is in the deep woods and has a really long lane. No one would hear them back there.”
“You better be right, Rebecca. If you’re wrong, I’ve sent my daughter to your sister’s house to spend the night and compromised both our reputations to take a long, cold buggy ride in the snow.”
“I’m afraid I am right. Think about it. Isn’t it suspicious that the Beachy brothers are out on such a bad night? There isn’t a singing, and neither of them are old enough to be walking out with girls.” She paused long enough to draw in a quick breath and went on. “Besides, Grace said there was a buggy full of boys. Mam was just saying that Irwin was going to bed awfully early lately, but he still looks red eyed and tired in the morning. She was going to buy him some vitamins.”
“So he could be sneaking out with his cousins?”
“Turn here.” Rebecca pointed to an opening in a grove of cedar trees. “It’s an old logging road and it can get muddy in wet weather, but the ground will be frozen solid tonight.”
Caleb guided the horse off the paved road. “I don’t see any tracks, Amish or English.”
Rebecca shook her head. “Trust me, Caleb. I grew up here. There’s a tangle of lanes and dirt roads that run for miles through woodland and back pastures. My sisters and I used to ride ponies back here when we were young, and before that, we went cutting wood and looking for wild bees with my dat. Most of the trails are grown over, but we can still squeeze through.” She spoke with more confidence than she felt. “If they’re headed for the Thompson house, we can still get there ahead of them.”
The lane had deep ruts, and they couldn’t see more than a few yards ahead of the horse, but once they were sheltered by the old growth forest, it was easier driving. Ten minutes stretched like thirty, and Rebecca was beginning to fear that she’d made a terrible mistake when the horse snorted and perked up its ears.
“Listen,” Rebecca said. “Do you hear that?”
Caleb reined in the horse. Without the soft thud of the animal’s hooves and the creak of the buggy, Rebecca could clearly hear music up ahead. Loud, thumping music!
“Not hymns, for certain,” Caleb remarked.
“Hurry,” she urged. “This lane meets up with another one just beyond the trees. The house will be on the left in a clearing, and our kids should be driving from the right.”
Caleb slapped the reins over the horse’s rump, and the buggy lurched ahead. Rebecca’s stomach rose in her throat, and she clutched the dashboard of the carriage.
The level of noise rose, and when they broke out of the woods, Rebecca wasn’t surprised to hear the blare of a car horn and shrieks of laughter. Pickup trucks, SUVs and automobiles crowded the open space around the house and lined the dirt road on either side. Lights bobbed behind shuttered windows, and someone had built a huge fire of fence posts and logs near the front door—much too near the house for safety. English boys and girls ran across the clearing, whooping and shouting. Most seemed to be drinking out of cans, but Rebecca couldn’t tell if they had soft drinks or something more inappropriate. As she stared, she heard the crack of glass and wood and saw something pitch through an upstairs window, followed by peals of shrill laughter.
“This is bad,” Caleb said. “Do you see any buggies?”
“Ne, but it
’s so dark....” She scanned the area around the fire. From their clothes, most of the kids seemed to be Englishers, but she couldn’t be sure. Amish kids were known to leave their house in their own homemade clothing and change into Englisher clothes on the way to this sort of thing. “What do we do?” she asked Caleb. “If our kids are here, we can’t leave them.”
“We will do nothing. You’ll stay here and I’ll go and see for myself,” he answered. “Don’t get out of the buggy. I’ll turn the horse around first, so if...if anything frightens you, just drive back the way we came.”
“I couldn’t leave you,” she insisted.
“Ne, Rebecca.” His voice was firm. “I’m capable of looking after myself. If I’m not back in five minutes, you—”
“Look!” She caught his arm. “Coming up the lane. See!”
In the distance, she could see telltale blinking red-and-green Christmas lights. “Elmer’s buggy. We got here ahead of them.”
“Ya,” Caleb agreed. “Looks as though you were right. But what about that gate you mentioned? The one that was supposed to be locked?”
“With all these cars and trucks here, the English kids must have broken through. We can go out that way.” She pointed left. “It’s a good mile shorter to the main road.”
“A mile? How’s that possible?”
“The Thompson farm isn’t on the hardtop. There’s a right-of-way drive through Joe King’s farm.” She shivered as a clump of snow from an overhanging branch fell onto the dashboard and splattered over her.
“Walk on,” Caleb said to the horse. “We’ve come this far. Best finish this mess as quick as we can.” He glanced at her. She couldn’t see the expression in his eyes, but she was certain that there was a hint of amusement in his voice.
She smiled in surprise. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Am not,” he said brusquely.
