by Marta Perry
He threw her to the wet ground and kicked her again. Air whizzed from her lungs. She gasped, unable to breathe.
The back door creaked open, and Simon stood in the doorway, eyes wide. “Mamm?”
“Stay...inside.” Ruthie glanced at the now smoldering logs. She was relieved by the dying fire, and even more grateful that the man had disappeared.
Andrew pushed past his older brother and grabbed the rope to the dinner bell that hung on the back porch. His face twisted with determination as he tugged on the heavy hemp. The peel of the bell sounded in the night.
Simon ran to where she was lying and fell to his knees. “Mamm, do not die. Do not die like Datt.”
She wanted to reassure both boys, but all she could think of was that no one would answer their call for help.
* * *
Noah Schlabach stepped from his father’s house and inhaled the smoke that hung heavy in the air. The chilling clang of a dinner bell pierced the silence. At this time of night, it signaled danger and need. The closest neighboring farm on Amish Mountain belonged to Eli Plank. Ten years ago, the crusty old codger had a bad heart and a cranky disposition. Doubting Eli’s condition had improved, Noah climbed behind the wheel of his Ford pickup, flicked on the lights and headed along the dirt road that led to the bridge, which he hoped was still standing. Rain had fallen steadily since he had returned to the area twenty-four hours ago and had swelled the narrow river. There was a safer bridge closer to town, but the detour would delay his response to the bell’s clamant call.
He’d last crossed the river the night he had begged Eli’s daughter, Ruthie, to run away with him. Leaving her ten years ago had been the hardest thing he’d ever done, next to burying his brother, Seth, and his family. Coming back to sell their father’s house was closure to the past and all its pain. If only he could rid himself of the guilt so he could embrace life again. But then, he didn’t deserve happiness. Nor did he expect to find it.
The wind howled, bending the pines and pushing against the truck with a powerful force. He gripped the steering wheel as he neared the rickety bridge. The guard railings bowed in the wind. A board broke loose, fell into the water and floated downstream toward the town of Willkommen.
Had he remained Amish, Noah would have offered a prayer for his own safe passage over the aged structure, but if God hadn’t answered Noah’s prayers for his brother, He wouldn’t answer his prayer tonight. Better to remain silent than to face God’s rejection again.
The moon broke through the clouds and reflected off the churning river below. Glancing higher up the mountain, he spied the cascading waterfall. The early spring rains had been merciless, which added to the surge of water flowing down the mountain.
He eased the truck across the bridge and accelerated on the other side. The Plank farmhouse sat at the upper tip of the valley, not more than fifty yards from the riverbank. Too close to the water, but then Mr. Plank had never made good decisions about the way he managed his farm, or how he parented Ruthie after her mother’s death.
A small boy with blond hair, not more than five or six, stood on the porch, ringing the dinner bell. Noah braked to a stop and lunged from the truck. A fire smoldered in the woodpile. Smoke trailed upward from what appeared to be a contained burn.
Turning, his heart sped up.
An older boy was kneeling over a woman who was lying facedown in the red Georgia clay. Noah recognized the dark hair and frail form.
Ruthie!
“Mamm,” the child whimpered as Noah neared. “Help her,” the boy pleaded. “Help my mamm.”
Noah touched her slender neck, searched for a pulse and let out a relieved breath when he felt a faint but steady beat.
She moaned and tried to turn over. Her neck and spine seemed uninjured, yet her eyes remained closed. Feeling her arms, he checked for breaks, then did the same to her legs and feet before he gently lifted her into his arms.
“Let’s take your mamm inside.”
The older boy hurried to the porch, where his younger brother held on to the bell rope as if his hands were glued in place.
“It’s okay,” Noah assured the shivering younger child. “Come inside and get warm.”
Following the boys into the house, he asked, “Where’s your mother’s bedroom?”
“On the second floor.” The older boy locked the kitchen door behind them, then led the way up the stairs.
Peering around the starkly furnished Amish home, Noah expected to see Eli. “Is your grandfather asleep?” he asked.
“Dawdy died two months ago,” the young one said.
“And your father?”
“He died in the same buggy accident.”
Noah’s gut tightened. “There are just you two boys?”
They nodded.
“And Mamm,” the younger one answered. His fingers latched onto his mother’s arm, which was hanging limp. Tears welled in his eyes.
“She’s going to be okay.” Although Noah wanted to reassure the child, he wasn’t sure of any such thing. Ruthie had been used as a punching bag. Internal injuries could be deceptive and hard to diagnose. She needed a doctor, but knowing the Amish way was to treat first and use medical care as a last option, he would assess her injuries before he talked about taking her to the hospital in Willkommen.
The boys led him into a small bedroom. The covers on the bed had been thrown back. Ruthie’s slippers sat on the floor. Carefully, he removed her muddy robe and laid her on the bed.
“Datt said we deserved it whenever we were hurt,” the little one whispered. “But Mamm did not deserve to be beaten. Ever.”
Had she been beaten before? “Did either of you see the person who hurt your mamm?”
Both boys shook their heads.
Noah touched her cheek. “Ruthie?”
She moaned.
“Talk to her, boys.”
“Mamm, look at me. It’s Andrew.” The youngest one leaned over his mother and kissed her cheek.
Noah’s heart tightened.
The other boy, his face shadowed, touched her hair. “Open your eyes, Mamm. Simon wants to see your blue eyes.”
Andrew started to cry.
Noah put his arm around the young child and drew him close. “Shhh,” he soothed.
The older boy turned to the nightstand. He struck a match and lit the oil lamp.
With the sudden burst of light, Ruthie’s eyes blinked open. She stared at Noah, her brow furrowed with puzzlement.
“Your boys are safe,” he assured her.
“Andrew?” She tried to raise her head.
“Here I am, Mamm.”
“And Simon?” Slowly, she turned to look at her oldest child.
Noah followed her gaze, seeing the boy more clearly in the lamplight. Tall and lean, he had a shock of brown hair about the same shade as Noah’s. Dark eyes, a strong nose and square jaw. One eyebrow arched slightly higher than the other. His lips were full. He offered his mother a weak smile, revealing dimples on each cheek.
Noah’s gut tightened. He raised his hand to his own face. The realization hit him hard as he stared at the boy who looked surprisingly like him.
“Why did you come back, Noah?” Ruthie asked, her tone bitter as she turned to stare at him. “You left once—why did you return to Amish Mountain?”
Before seeing Simon in the light, he would have told her he was here to sell his deceased father’s house and farm. Now he realized something other than his father’s passing had brought him back to the mountain. Was it Divine Providence? Whether God was involved, he would never know, but one thing was certain—Noah had been led back to Amish Mountain to find his son.
Copyright © 2020 by Deborah W. Giusti
ISBN: 9781488055881
Amish Protector
Copyright © 2020 by Martha P. Johnson
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