Читать книгу Plain Peril - Alison Stone - Страница 13

THREE

Hannah slipped back into the house after visiting her mother in time to find Emma coming down the stairs in her sleeping gown, one hand on her doll, the other fisted and rubbing her eyes. Sarah came down only when it seemed hunger had gotten the best of her.

After feeding her nieces breakfast of, in their opinion, too-lumpy oatmeal and runny dippy ecks, Hannah had the girls get dressed then ushered them outside. She needed to check on the farm animals and thought perhaps the outdoors would brighten the young girls’ dispositions.

Hannah reached the door of the barn as the sun was haloing the roofline of the gray, weatherworn barn. Sarah and Emma seemed content to plop down on the slight incline leading toward the barn and drag long strands of grass through their fingers. As long as the young girls stayed close to the barn, there was nothing they could get into. The freedom the Amish children had to explore was far different than the constantly monitored existence of English children.

A little voice in her head warned her that her non-motherly way of thinking was likely to get her—or her new charges—into trouble. She considered taking each by the hand and advising them to stay close, then decided it was best not to draw attention to her slipping into the barn to check on the animals.

With two hands, she peeled back the door and stepped inside. The familiar smell of manure assaulted her nose even though the barn had been swept clean yesterday for her sister’s funeral. She lifted her apron to her nose, wondering how she had ever gotten used to such a foul smell. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Emma and Sarah kicking a volleyball back and forth. Their long blond hair dangled down their backs.

The morning light filtered through the slats of the barn. The cow mooed as if happy to see her. A neighborhood boy, Samuel, had come over both in the mornings and afternoons to milk the cow and feed the horse the past few days. Samuel had told her he couldn’t come this morning, but he’d be available this afternoon.

Planting her hands on her hips, she let out a heavy sigh. Even though John’s move away from farming for a living had been a point of contention for her sister, Hannah was grateful. Now she only had to worry about a few animals and no crops. Seemed a shame, though, considering all this land her family’s property sat on.

Hannah grabbed a milking stool and sat. She glanced at her soft hands, now foreign to the rigors of physical labor. A shadow crossed the open door, and Hannah’s hand immediately went to her head. She had taken the time to twist her hair into a messy bun, but she wasn’t wearing her cap.

“Gut morning.” The words flowed naturally from her mouth. She held up her hand to block the sun as a man strolled into the barn.

“Morning, Miss Wittmer.” The casual, warm greeting brought her up short.

“Sheriff Maxwell.” Hannah drew in a deep breath and found herself wishing she had on her English wardrobe complete with a little eyeliner and smoothing hair gel. She lowered her hand and forced a smile. “We have to stop meeting like this.”

“Call me Spencer.”

“Then you’ll have to call me Hannah.” She scrambled to her feet then looked past him to see her nieces hanging on to the door frame, studying the visitor.

“Go back to playing, girls. The sheriff won’t be here long.”

“No, I won’t.” Spencer shifted his stance. “Is there anyone who can take care of the animals for a while?”

“Why?”

“I think it would be safer if you and the girls left the farm for a while. Until we get this all sorted out.”

“I can’t pick up and leave.” She lowered her voice and leaned closer to him. “This is the only home my nieces have known. They lost their mother. And my mom lives next door...and I don’t know offhand who could care for the animals full-time.” Her brain swirled with all the responsibilities.

“Sounds like you have a lot of reasons to stay.”

“I have a lot to figure out.” Outside the barn, her nieces returned to their seats on the grassy incline and plucked long blades of grass and twisted them around their fingers.

“Maybe you can find other family to stay with the girls until we locate John and figure out what’s going on here.”

“My sister was all I had. As far as reaching out to other Amish families, I won’t be welcomed.”

“I’m sure a family would welcome your nieces.”

His words felt like a knife stabbing her heart. “I’m not going to leave my nieces.” She had promised her sister she’d make sure the girls were cared for. Hannah couldn’t run away.

Spencer studied her with unnerving intensity. Then he snapped out of it and jerked his thumb toward the cow. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your morning chores. You can milk a cow?”

She laughed, genuinely laughed, for the first time since she had received word of her sister’s death. “I’m certainly capable of milking a cow or two.” She tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “This is the first morning I’ve had to deal with farm life since I arrived. I’m facing one thing at a time. First my nieces, then the farm animals.”

“All God’s creatures.”

Hannah stared at him for a minute. The smile lines at the corners of his eyes softened all his features. Yet his broad chest and solid arms would intimidate any criminal. She scooped up a metal bucket, fully aware that he was watching her. “An Amish boy has been helping me. That’s one thing you can say about the Amish. They always look after their own.”

“They do.” The two simple words held more weight than she dare explore.

She shifted the solid milking bucket from one hand to the other. She patted the backside of the cow, running her hand over its coarse fur. “How do you feel about a city slicker milking you?” The cow shuffled its back feet and let out a deep moo that vibrated through her chest. Hannah patted the animal again. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Hannah pulled up a stool and straddled it. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Spencer standing close. Did he doubt her abilities? Inwardly she laughed. What did he know about farm life?

Hannah glanced at the empty bucket to make sure it was clean enough for fresh cow’s milk. Three tiny holes marred the bottom of the metal bucket. The milk would leak out.

She put the bucket down and stood. She brushed past Spencer, his clean scent mixing in with fresh hay and too-fresh manure. She picked up a second pail from a nearby table. It also had several neat holes in the bottom, as if someone had taken a nail and driven it through the metal with a hammer.

“Something wrong?” Spencer’s voice sounded from behind her.

Biting her lip, she turned the pail over. Bold red letters spelled out the word English. A red slash cut across the entire bottom of the pail, as if to say, No English Allowed.

Her knees grew weak. Suddenly, the heavy cotton of her Amish dress clung to her neck, strangling her. She pushed past Spencer and returned to the first pail and found the same thing. She shoved the pail into Spencer’s chest.

“Look. The person who slashed my tires was busy last night.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed as he glanced down at the bucket in his hands.

“You have to find John. If it’s John who’s doing this,” she quickly added. “He mustn’t be in his right mind.” Hannah tugged on her bun to loosen it. “To kill my sister and now try to chase me away. What does he hope to accomplish?”

“I can’t speculate on his motive.” Spencer inspected the pail. “We’re doing everything we can to find him. To get answers.”

“Maybe it’s just kids. A prank...” Even as she said it, she doubted it. But John...that didn’t seem right, either. The thought of spending another long, restless night in this house made her wish she had the ability to speed up time. There were no locks on the doors, but maybe she could move furniture in front of the doors at night. She said a silent prayer in hopes of calming her frazzled nerves.

She bowed her head then lifted it and met his gaze directly. “I refuse to abandon my nieces. Because—” she swiped the bucket out of his hand “—that’s exactly what he wants me to do.”

* * *

When Spencer emerged from the barn a half step behind Hannah, the little girls were each holding an Amish woman’s hand. The girls tugged and pulled on the woman’s arm as she marched directly toward them, an expression, a combination of disgust and scolding on her plain features.

“There you are,” she said, narrowing her gaze at Hannah. “These girls have been wandering around half-dressed.”

“They are perfectly dressed.” Hannah fingered the older girl’s blond curls. “If it’s their hair you’re concerned with, I didn’t have a chance to do their braids yet. I wasn’t expecting visitors.” Hannah touched her own messy bun.

The woman’s gaze shot to Spencer, and her nose twitched.

“Morning. I’m Sheriff Maxwell.” He held out his hand then let it drop when it was obvious the woman wasn’t going to accept it.

The woman sniffed the air. “I’m Fannie Mae Lapp.” She lifted the girls’ hands. The pout on the older girl’s face was unmistakable. The younger of the two was on the verge of tears. “I’m the girls’ aenti.” She glared at him as if he were going to challenge her claim.

“Is there a problem, Sheriff?” He recognized Lester Lapp, John’s brother, strolling across the grass. Lester had been his father’s, the bishop’s, guard dog, not allowing law enforcement to speak to anyone in the Lapp family since Ruth’s death and John’s disappearance. Lester strode down the slight incline from the house to the barn, his arms swinging confidently by his sides. “I came out as soon as we heard you were here. The bishop is also here.” His tone held a warning. “If you have news regarding my brother, you can share it with me. My father is still weak from grief.”

“I have no news about John.” Spencer wasn’t about to share news of Ruthie’s murder in front of her daughters. “But I’m afraid we’ve had some—” he glanced down at the girls “—events on the property that need to be addressed.” Spencer crossed his arms. “It’s best if we don’t talk in front of the children.”

“Girls, run up to the house for me.” Hannah tossed the metal bucket on the hard-packed mud. It tumbled and landed with the graffiti facing away from the guests.

Lester gave Fannie Mae a subtle nod, giving her permission to take the children up to the house. The older niece yanked her hand from her aunt’s grip and ran ahead. The little one seemed tired of being led around, reminding Spencer of a rag doll dangling by a boneless arm.

“What’s going on?” Lester fingered his unkempt beard and kept his eyes trained on Hannah. “Sheriff Maxwell seems to be spending a lot of time on my brother’s farm. I’d hate for the neighbors to start talking. There is much work to be done if you expect to be accepted in Apple Creek.” He was speaking directly to Hannah.

Was Hannah planning on joining the Amish community permanently? Something in Spencer’s heart shifted, and he wasn’t proud of himself. Regardless of his initial attraction to this spunky woman, she had to make a decision that was best for her even if it meant there would be zero chance of a them. His disappointment seemed silly considering they had only just met. However, there was something about her simple, straightforward manner that was the complete opposite of high-maintenance Vicki.

“Lester, I’m going to forgive your bad manners on account of your tremendous loss,” Hannah said, not mincing words.

“I don’t need your forgiveness.” A vein bulged in Lester’s forehead.

“What’s going on here?” Bishop Lapp navigated his way down the slope with his cane. He looked warm in his black overcoat as the sun climbed higher in the sky.

Lester’s expression immediately softened. He met his father and guided him to the dirt-packed entrance of the barn.

“I have difficult news,” Spencer said. The bishop had aged dramatically these past few days. Spencer cleared his throat and then told Lester and Bishop Lapp of the suspicious circumstances surrounding Ruth’s death.

“Are you saying John hurt Ruth?” Lester crossed his arms over his chest, one of his fingers snagging on his suspenders. “Neh, impossible.” He shook his head adamantly for emphasis. “It was an accident. A tragic accident.”

“I’m afraid the medical examiner’s findings contradict that.”

“And you? How do you feel?” Lester asked.

“I have more questions than answers right now. I need to talk to John. Have you heard from him?” Spencer watched their expressions carefully, trying to detect deceit.

Lester tipped his head, hiding his eyes behind the brim of his straw hat. “Neh. We’re worried.”

“My son had nothing to do with his wife’s death.” The bishop narrowed his gaze. He reached out and clutched a post to steady himself. “You haven’t been in town long, Sheriff. But one thing you must already know. The Amish are a peaceful people. This medical examiner...he is wrong.”

“Someone slashed my tires last night.” Hannah stepped forward. “Any idea who would do that?”

“It wasn’t John. He hasn’t been around. Don’t you think if my brother was around, he’d be consoling his children? He must not be in his right mind due to grief. There’s no other reason he’d stay away so long.” Lester took off his straw hat and rubbed his head. “None of this makes sense. What reason would John have to hurt Ruth and then come back and destroy property?”

Spencer watched Lester. The man appeared genuinely distraught. “You’re all under tremendous stress right now. I’m not accusing anyone of anything. It’s my job to uncover the truth.”

“We want the truth, too.” The bishop’s voice sounded shaky as he mopped his brow with a handkerchief.

“Do you have any idea where John might have gone? Someplace he feels comfortable. Safe.”

“He felt safest here at home.” A tall Amish man with broad shoulders ambled toward them. Spencer recognized him from around town. “Can’t imagine what would keep my good friend away when his daughters need him.” A look of disgust swept across the man’s face as he took in Hannah before his features smoothed into an appropriate look of solemnity. Or had Spencer imagined it?

Spencer held out his hand. “I’m Sheriff Maxwell.”

The man nodded but didn’t take his hand. “I know who you are.” He looped his thumbs through his suspenders. “I’m Willard Fisher. I live down the road where it meets Plum Crossing. John and I help each other out when we can. My boy Samuel has been caring for the animals while he’s gone.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I was away visiting family in Ohio. I wish I had been here to console him after his wife’s accident.”

Lester puffed out his chest, as if in competition with the new arrival. “My brother was overcome with grief. He found his wife’s body. I can’t imagine what I’d do under the circumstances.”

“Have faith.” Willard’s mouth flattened into a grim line. “Have faith in Gott and continue on.”

“Do you know if John or Ruth had issue with anyone? Someone who might have wanted to hurt her?” Spencer shifted his stance, feeling as if he had to brace himself against the men’s displeasure.

The bishop shook his head. “We lead simple lives.”

“Are you saying Ruth’s death wasn’t an accident?” Willard frowned.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Willard and Lester glanced at one another while Hannah looked like she was tired of holding her tongue.

Spencer’s cell phone rang. He glanced at its display. “I have to get this. Excuse me.” As he stepped away, the back of his head prickled with the men’s laser-like gazes.

* * *

Hannah picked up the metal bucket and hung it upside down on the post near the barn. She watched the men to see if anyone had a reaction to the graffiti written on the bottom of the bucket.

“Don’t let your English ways interfere with our peaceful life here.” Lester’s fiery gaze slid from the sheriff to her.

Willard crossed his arms over his broad chest, but didn’t say anything. He obviously agreed. No one wanted an outsider living in their midst. She could dress up in her dead sister’s clothes, but no one would truly accept her until she embraced the Amish way and was baptized and found a suitable Amish husband.

Hannah’s pulse whooshed in her ears. “My sister was murdered. You can’t ignore that. The sheriff has to do a thorough investigation. If John was involved, you can’t protect him.”

Lester shook his head. “My brother had nothing to do with Ruth’s tragic death. It was an accident.”

Hannah lifted her trembling hands to dismiss him. “I can’t listen to this.”

She strode past Lester. He hollered after her, “Will you be joining us for church service tomorrow? We are having service in our home.”

Hannah turned and tugged on the collar of her dress. The thought of sitting in a sweaty barn for three hours listening to Bishop Lapp talk did not appeal to her, but she knew she had to make an effort on account of the girls. Her air-conditioned church back in Buffalo had spoiled her. It wasn’t God she was opposed to, it was falling back into her old Amish lifestyle before she made a true decision. Things were happening so fast.

“I have a lot of work to do around here,” she muttered, her brain racing for an excuse.

“It’s Sunday,” the bishop said. “A day of rest.”

“John and Ruth would want the children to go to church service,” Lester piled on.

Low blow.

“I’m not sure how I would get there.” Her car wasn’t an option even if her tires weren’t slashed.

“My family can take the girls,” Willard offered.

Hannah’s gaze shifted to the stern man and wondered where his son Samuel had gotten his soft-spoken demeanor. “I can take the girls to the service. Denki.” The Pennsylvania Dutch word for thank you slipped out of her mouth so naturally it caught her off guard. She’d take the horse and buggy, something she hadn’t done for years.

Hannah thought she detected a low chuckle from Willard, and her cheeks immediately fired hot.

“We look forward to seeing you there.” The bishop tapped the earth with his cane to emphasize his point. “You cannot live in two worlds.”

“I’m doing my best,” Hannah said. “My priority is caring for my nieces.”

Willard picked up the bucket and turned it over, studying the graffiti. “You found this in the barn?”

Hannah swallowed around a knot in her throat. “Yes, seems someone wants me to leave.”

Willard hung the bucket back on the post. “Shame to ruin a perfectly good bucket.” He turned and looked at Hannah. “Is my son doing the chores to your satisfaction?”

“Samuel’s been a big help, thank you.” Hannah felt the need to defend Samuel, and she wasn’t sure why. “I hope his helping me here hasn’t caused you more work on your own farm.”

“You need the help. John will be home soon, then Samuel will be back on my farm.” Willard said it so matter-of-factly, she wondered if he knew something she didn’t.

Unexpected emotion rolled over Hannah. She lowered her voice. “I do hope John comes home soon and this—whatever this is—is all cleared up.”

“He will,” the bishop said. “It’s best if you follow the Ordnung while you are here. I do not want my granddaughters to be influenced by worldly things. I will pray that once you are settled, you will decide to bend a knee.” The bishop made a few shuffle steps to turn around. He picked each step deliberately as he walked toward the house. A knot twisted her stomach. Would she ever be ready to be baptized in the Amish church?

Lester stepped forward. His features softened, yet the angle of his mouth seemed strained. “Fannie Mae and I will raise Emma and Sarah. Gott has not yet blessed us with children.”

A mix of relief, apprehension and dread washed over Hannah. Lester had offered her a way out.

“This life isn’t for you. You can return to Buffalo. We’ll take care of the girls.” Lester hesitated a fraction. “Until John is back and fit to care for them.”

Uncomfortable, Hannah glanced behind Lester and noticed Spencer sitting on the porch steps talking animatedly to the girls. They had bright smiles on their faces, the first she had seen since returning to Apple Creek.

Hannah refocused on Lester. “If I left the girls in your care, could I visit them?”

A muscle pulsed in his jaw. “Neh. Your life in the outside world would only confuse them. Raising her children here was important to Ruth. Ruth is gone, but don’t take her children away from everything that is important to them.”

Hannah hated Lester’s message, but she knew he was right. She backed away from him and made a show of swiping imaginary hay from her skirt. “I’ll have to think about it.”

“Fannie Mae will be a good mem to them.”

Hannah’s gaze drifted to Lester’s wife, standing apart as Spencer played with the two girls. Perhaps the woman didn’t know how to interact with children because she didn’t have any of her own. Indecision weighed heavily on Hannah, sucking the air out of her lungs.

“You should give this serious consideration.” Lester adjusted his straw hat by its brim. “I believe Gott has bigger plans for me in this community. I don’t want my family distracted by the outside world.”

“Gott decides such things. Not man. Be humble,” Willard scolded Lester.

Lester bristled. Perhaps Lester, like Hannah, had forgotten Willard was standing within earshot.

Hannah ran a hand across the back of her neck. “You want me to leave and to leave quietly?”

Lester’s dark eyes bored into her. “I want what’s best for my brother’s children.”

“My sister would want me to be their guardian.”

“The children still have a guardian. Their father.” Lester’s eyebrows disappeared under his hat.

“I will be their guardian until that matter is settled.” Hannah bustled past Lester and strode up the hill. The ache in her brain pounded in time with her racing heart.

“Everything okay?” Spencer stood when Hannah reached the porch. The compassion in his eyes diffused a fraction of her anger. Six-year-old Emma jumped to her feet to stand next to Spencer, looking up at him with big blue eyes as trusting as her mem’s.

Hannah glanced at Fannie Mae quickly, then back at Spencer. “Everything is great. Girls, would you like some fresh-baked muffins?” Hannah wanted to make up for the lumpy oatmeal from earlier, but feared her baking skills were also rusty.

Emma and Sarah raced Hannah inside. The screen door slammed in its frame, shutting out the outside world, even if only temporarily.