River of Mercy, page 13
“Consider it done.”
“We’ll hope for good weather,” said Susan.
“God knows what we need,” Malachi replied. “He’ll see to it.”
Gant was no longer amazed by this Amish way of giving thanks and trusting God in even the worst of situations. They were a people who lived in continual trust and constant gratitude to their Maker. He had learned much from them over the past year. Even though he still struggled with some of their ways, he respected those ways and attempted to emulate the ones he admired most.
After everyone had gone, and while Susan and Rachel cleaned up the kitchen, Gant explained to Doc and Gideon why he’d left the pump and gone across the road.
“You didn’t get a good enough look to tell who it was?” asked Doc, clearly troubled by this disclosure.
Gant shook his head. “Could have been anyone. I saw something white, but I couldn’t tell what. But whoever it was seemed awfully interested in what was going on.”
“And not interested in helping to fight the fire,” Gideon put in, a scowl darkening his face.
“So you think the person you saw might have set the fire?” Doc asked.
Gant shrugged. “You have to wonder. If not, why wouldn’t he have come over and helped the rest of us? Obviously, he intended to stay out of sight.”
“Well, I’m going over to the woods and look around,” Gideon said, moving toward the door.
“That’s probably not such a good idea,” Gant said. “We don’t know who’s out there. There could have been more than one. Just because I didn’t see anyone else doesn’t necessarily mean he was alone.”
Gideon whipped around with an impatient frown. “I’m not exactly helpless. I can take care of myself.” His face flamed as if he thought that Gant might take his words as an insult. “I’m just going to look around. Somebody needs to do something.”
Gant drew a long breath. He was already familiar with the youth’s impetuous nature. But he could hardly fault him for his frustration. Gideon might not be living Amish, but these were his people, his family, and their troubles were mounting. It was only natural that he would want to find out who was responsible for those troubles. In the end it was Rachel who convinced Gideon to stay. Gant hadn’t realized she’d come into the hallway and had heard at least part of their conversation.
“Don’t, Gideon. Please.” Her voice was low but firm. “You’re not going to do any good by going out there tonight. Whoever was there is long gone by now. All you’ll accomplish is to worry Mamma. At least wait until tomorrow.”
She paused. “How did you get here so quickly, anyway? Mamma said you were staying in town tonight.”
The instant change in Gideon’s expression pricked Gant’s curiosity.
“I changed my mind.” Gideon’s tone was unusually sullen, and he was clearly avoiding his sister’s gaze. “I was already on the road home when I saw the smoke.”
Gant couldn’t help but wonder about the boy’s reply and the furtive look on his face. He’d noticed that the pretty young Emma Knepp had showed up quite a while after her parents and brothers tonight, but not long after Gideon arrived. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time because of all the commotion with the fire, but now he wondered if those two had possibly worked out a way to see each other on the sly.
If so, they’d better be prepared to put out another fire—one with Emma’s father.
Doc spoke up then. “Rachel’s right, Gideon. “Wait until morning, when we can see. I’ll go with you, and we’ll have a look around the barn as well. If you’re staying here tonight, that is.”
Gideon glanced from Doc to Gant and then to Rachel. Finally he gave a short nod.
Rachel followed Gant out when he prepared to leave, an act that pleased him no end. He wouldn’t have put her on the spot by asking her, but the entire time they’d been in the house he was hoping for a way to see her alone, at least for a moment.
She said nothing to her family but simply pulled her coat from the hook by the door and threw it around her as they stepped out onto the porch. “Thank you for your help,” she said as she shut the door behind them.
Gant smiled a little at the almost formal tone of her voice. “You don’t have to thank me, Rachel. I’m just glad I was here.” He waited. “Are you all right?”
She nodded. “I just…I hate all this.” She made a gesture of frustration with her hands. “All this trouble. Someone wanting to hurt us. Never knowing what might come next or why it’s happening. It’s hard.”
An old anger Gant had felt before again rose up in him. The injustice and trouble wreaked on such a gentle, pacifist people never failed to rile him. “Doc told me about the mistreatment the Amish have suffered in other places besides Riverhaven. He said it’s been going on for generations.”
“Ja,” she said quietly. “This is nothing new. There has always been violence against us. Before our people ever came to America, there was trouble. They thought it would be different here. But it seems wherever we go there are always some who resent us…even hate us.”
Gant studied her. Somehow the confusion and sadness in her face worked together to heighten her loveliness.
“There’s no understanding it…”
He let his thought drift off, unfinished, but he couldn’t stop the worrisome question that had plagued him before tonight. What was it about the Amish that evoked this desire, the need to hurt them, to attempt to drive them away? If indeed that’s what all this was about—a hatred so intense that whoever harbored it was resolved to make life so miserable for an entire people that they would just up and leave.
Whoever it was—whoever they were—knew enough about the Plain People to feel secure that they wouldn’t retaliate, wouldn’t defend themselves regardless of the cruelty leveled at them.
He made an effort to shake himself out of the black mood that had earlier begun to settle over him. Reaching for Rachel’s hand, he touched it only briefly before releasing her. “It’s cold out here. You’d best go inside.”
She nodded. “You’ll be careful going back to town?”
“I’ll be fine. There’s not another creature in the county that can outrun Flann.” He hesitated. “But Rachel, please don’t stay alone tonight. Stay here, with your family.”
He could sense that she was about to protest. But instead she searched his face for a long moment, finally giving a conciliatory nod. “If you think I should.”
“I definitely do.”
Relieved, he very nearly took her hand again but stopped. As much as he wanted to touch her, it was a hard, hurtful thing to let her go. He wanted…he needed more from Rachel than a touch.
He wanted her heart.
22
COUNTING THE COST
It’s wiser being good than bad;
It’s safer being meek than fierce.
ROBERT BROWNING
Captain?”
Gant had just reached Flann, hitched in front of the house, and was about to mount the big red horse when Gideon stopped him.
“You could do with a coat, lad,” Gant told him.
The youth glanced down over himself as if he’d only then realized he was still in his shirtsleeves. “I’m all right. I wanted to catch you before you left.”
“Something wrong?”
“No. Well, I don’t think so. It’s just that—I saw the way you looked at me when Rachel asked how I got here so quick.”
“What way was that?” Gant said, intrigued by the boy’s apparent unease.
“I just wanted to make sure you didn’t think I had anything to do with the fire.”
Surprised, Gant stared at him. “Why would I think anything of the kind?”
“I don’t know. I just…had the feeling you might not have believed me.”
Gant studied him for a long moment. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, lad. But now I’m curious. Why would you ever think I’d suspect you of burning down your own family’s barn?”
The boy seemed to loosen up a bit at that. “Well…I hoped you wouldn’t.” He dug the toe of his shoe in the dirt a couple of times. “All right, then. I just wanted to make sure.”
“One thing though…”
Gideon visibly tensed again. “I don’t know what’s on your mind, but whatever it is, let me just suggest that you do want to be careful not to bring any trouble down on yourself or anyone else by some manner of foolishness. Speaking from experience, it’s a good thing to count the cost of any behavior you’re not quite comfortable with. Acting on impulse can be a treacherous thing.”
Gideon glanced away, then back. “I’m…pretty careful about what I do.”
“Good.” Clearly, the boy still felt awkward. No doubt because he knew what—and whom—Gant was referring to. Emma Knepp.
He moved to change the subject. “By the way, there’s something I was going to ask you earlier but didn’t have a chance. Did you happen to notice anyone missing tonight? Someone you’d expect to show up where there’s trouble?”
Gideon frowned, but his expression quickly cleared. “Samuel Beiler.”
“So you didn’t see him either.”
Gideon shook his head. “No. But I know why. He was spending the day in Marietta.”
“How do you know that?”
“I was talking to…I happened to meet up with Emma Knepp in town, and her dat was going too. And her brothers. They were all going to an auction.”
Gant nodded, his curiosity satisfied for the moment, though he still felt strangely unsettled. He mounted Flann and would have left had Gideon’s next words not stopped him.
“I don’t blame you for wondering. I don’t quite trust Samuel Beiler either.”
“I don’t recall saying anything about not trusting the man.” Gant hesitated before adding, “But what accounts for your feelings?”
Clearly, the boy was now feeling the need of a coat as he hugged his arms around himself. Even so, he shrugged and made an effort to explain. “It might be because old Sam thinks he’s so perfect nobody else can live up to his standards. I probably shouldn’t say this, but I have a hard time believing anyone is that perfect.” He paused. “Truth is, I’ve always been kind of sorry for his boys, being raised by that kind of father.”
Gant waited. He didn’t want to bait the boy, but his curiosity was growing.
“They haven’t had it easy, it seems to me,” Gideon went on. “I doubt if anyone could live up to that man’s demands. I’ve been around them some over the years, and I don’t believe I’ve ever heard him give one of his boys a kind word. Especially Aaron.”
“Aaron?”
“He’s the oldest son. And maybe because he’s the oldest folks seem to think he’s had things the hardest at home. I’ve heard tell his dat takes his temper out on Aaron on a regular basis. More than on the other boys.”
“So Beiler has a temper?” Gant wasn’t in the least surprised, although the comment might have surprised him had it been offered about most any other Amish man.
“A bad one, from what some folks say. I never actually saw it for myself, but Aaron has said things that would seem to point to it. And people talk.”
Gideon seemed to think a moment. “Samuel fancied himself a friend of my dat, but I’m not so sure Dat counted him that good a friend. In truth, I never thought he liked the man all that well. I know he didn’t care much for old Sam’s puffed-up ways.” He stopped, darting Gant a knowing look. “And I don’t like how he won’t leave Rachel alone.”
He stopped. “I’d better not say anything more. Mamm would be all over me for gossiping.”
“She’s going to be out here giving both of us a piece of her mind if you don’t go inside and get warmed up.”
Gideon grinned. “No doubt you’re right. I shouldn’t be keeping you either. You’ve got a ways to ride yet.”
Gant nodded. “You take care now. I’ll see you tomorrow at the shop?”
“Oh, I’ll be in at my usual time. And Captain, thanks for your help tonight.”
Gant nodded and rode off, mulling over Gideon’s remarks about Samuel Beiler all the way into town.
In spite of the captain’s advice about going inside to warm up, and despite the fact that he was shivering, Gideon delayed going back to the house. He felt as though he had guilt written all over him. His employer’s warning about the treachery of foolish behavior had found its target, though he hoped the captain hadn’t realized it.
In truth, he had been with Emma tonight. After much persuasion, he’d convinced her to meet him at the old mill bridge. No doubt the fact that her father and brothers were still down at Marietta accounted for her eventually giving in to his urging. Even so, once they were together he was pretty sure she was glad she’d come, even though he could tell she felt nervous about being alone with him in such a remote place after dark.
He was convinced she was as attracted to him as he was to her. The shine in her eyes when she allowed herself to look at him more than a second or two, the pretty shade of pink her face turned at the same time, and the way she seemed to hang on his every word…well, it was fairly obvious she liked him all right.
All they did was talk. He sensed that if he so much as touched her at this point, he’d spoil any chance he might have of courting her. Besides, something about Emma made him want to treat her as if she were made of glass. She was a special girl, a good Amish girl, and he meant to respect her just as any decent Amish man would. And he was still Amish, after all.
But the notion of actually courting her might be too far-fetched to even consider, other than seeing her in secret. But wasn’t that pretty much how his people carried out their courting anyway?
Emma, however, would never go along with some kind of verboten relationship. Even if she wasn’t afraid of her dat—and Gideon was fairly certain she was afraid of him—she wasn’t the kind of girl to turn her back on the way she’d been raised.
No, Emma wasn’t made for deceit. She would stay true to her family and her faith. She would marry a good Amish fellow and be a good Amish wife and mother. And even if she were tempted to stray from her beliefs and her heritage, her folks would find a way to stop her.
But they wouldn’t need to stop her. Emma had said it herself, making her feelings very clear before they separated. “I can’t meet you like this again, Gideon. It’s not right. I like being with you, but I won’t do this again, so please don’t ask me to.”
So, then, why was he even thinking about courting her when he knew how impossible the whole idea was?
Because he wanted her. Trouble was, he wanted her in the right way, not in some secret, tarnished relationship.
Foolish! He wasn’t ready—he didn’t know when or if he would ever be ready—to go back to the Plain life. Living Amish, leaving the Englisch world altogether, becoming boxed in again with all the confining rules and restrictions of the Plain ways…could he really see his future in that light?
He had promised himself he would live Englisch until he could find out who was causing all the trouble for the Amish. Otherwise, he could do nothing to stop the ones responsible. The Plain People didn’t believe in revenge or even in defending themselves. If he went back to the community, he’d have to accept the beliefs in which he’d been raised. Those beliefs didn’t include any kind of retaliation or physical threat. Even if he should happen to find out who was bringing down all the trouble on the Amish, he wouldn’t be free to do anything about it.
Right now, with things as they were, his situation was entirely different from Emma’s. He couldn’t be shunned because he had never joined the church. He might rate the disapproval of the community, and some might even turn their backs on him, but by rights they couldn’t shun him for the way he was living.
Emma’s situation was different though. She had taken her church vows, so she could be shunned. Her life could be ruined by taking up with him.
The captain had even hinted at that very thing. Hadn’t he just warned him to be careful not to bring trouble down on himself—or anyone else?
He would never want to be responsible for hurting Emma. Never. Better to stay away from her altogether. The very thought brought a hammer of pain to his heart, and in that instant, he knew he had allowed his feelings to overwhelm his good sense. He felt like a dummkopf. Like a foolish, lovesick schoolboy.
Worse still, he was starting to feel all the makings of a trap closing in on him.
23
FAILED PLANS
Black our fearful crime must be.
RICHARD D’ALTON WILLIAMS
He clenched his fists in frustration. Things couldn’t have gone more wrong.
Nearing home, he tugged his coat more tightly around him, aggravated by the cold, the odor of smoke he could still smell on himself, and the memory of all the people crowding to help, with that Gant fellow in the midst of them as if he belonged.
Just his luck the outsider would be right there in the house when the fire started. He hadn’t once thought of that. By the time he’d seen Gant’s big red horse, it was too late. The fire was well under way.
His plan had depended on a serious loss and on suspicion falling on the outsider. Instead, Gant ended up looking the hero—manning the pump, helping out wherever he could, the others counting on him, looking up to him. Their faces, shining in the light of the fire, even seemed to show respect for him!
Another plan botched. Nothing was going as he’d intended. Somehow, Gant always spoiled everything.
What was it going to take to get rid of him? Obviously, more than he’d first thought. There had to be something that would force Gant to leave—or at least something that would finally press him to stay away from Rachel and the People.
He stopped at the lane leading up to his house, waiting for a fresh surge of strength and determination to well up inside him. Within minutes, he could feel himself growing stronger, more focused, more dedicated. The failed barn fire was just an obstacle on the path, after all, not a defeat.
Hadn’t he known from the beginning it might not be easy, that most likely it would take more than one or two incidents to accomplish his goal? So he had more to do. He simply needed yet another plan. He was committed to doing whatever it might take to rid their lives of the menace among them—and at the same time make his own life considerably easier.
