by Lenora Worth
Leon grunted and glared. “Get this dog off me.”
No one obliged him.
Micah lifted Samantha up and carried her out of the barn.
Jed and Emmie ran toward them. “Micah, you saved her!” Emmie shouted.
He gently sat Samantha down on a jutting rock, then gathered his brother and sister close. “We’re all safe now.”
A gentle rain started to fall. Emmie and Jed danced, holding their heads up to the sky.
While Micah stared into Samantha’s eyes and wondered if she’d leave him now.
Two days later...
“Why hasn’t she kumm to see us, Micah?” Emmie said for the tenth time. “I miss her and Patch. Patch is a hero, you know. He helped get Samantha back.”
Micah stopped tinkering with a harness and went to where his sister sat on a blanket by the open door, holding a baby goat. “I told you and Jed, Samantha has a life and it can’t involve us.”
“But she likes it here,” Emmie said. “She could stay with us. You could marry her. The bishop likes her.”
Micah had thought of nothing else the last two days. He’d marry Samantha in a heartbeat, if she’d have him. What did he have to offer her? She’d have to accept this life.
Jed came running out to the barn. “We have company.” He waited, then reached out his hand. “It’s Samantha.”
Emmie squealed, scaring the tiny goat. When they heard a loud, happy bark, she squealed even more. The goat went running into the barn.
Micah stepped out and stared at Samantha. She had on a long floral dress and her hair was up in a bun. Patch jumped and yelped until Emmie and Jed took him to play.
Micah couldn’t move. “So you’re leaving?”
She nodded, her hands twisting together. “Yes. I have to go back to give my statement and...put my clinic up for sale.” Glancing out at the field, she said, “I’ll have to return to New York for the trial but that might be a while.”
“Where will you go?” he asked, knowing the answer wouldn’t be near him.
She hesitated, looking out toward the field. “I thought I might come back here to Campton Creek.”
“Ja?” He moved closer, praying, wishing. “To stay?”
She nodded again. “I can get a license to practice in Pennsylvania.”
“So you’d live nearby?”
She moved closer. “I’ll be staying with my gramma for a while.”
“Are you coming home, Samantha Herndon?” he asked, his heart opening wide with hope.
“Do you want me here, Micah King?” she replied, tears in her eyes.
“I could use a gut animal doctor, ja.”
“If the bishop approves.” She moved closer, the scent of a thousand flowers surrounding her.
“Oh, he’ll approve. He has five fine horses that always need attention.”
“And what about you? Do you approve?”
He pulled her into his arms. “I do. I want you with me for the rest of my days.”
“Is that a proposal?”
“Is that an answer?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”
“Yes,” he responded, his forehead tucked against hers. “Yes.”
He kissed her. Patch starting barking, Emmie squealed again and Jed stood there, grinning. The baby goat made a run for it.
Fall...
“The wedding was beautiful,” Gramma told Samantha as she kissed her and hugged her tight. “We are so blessed to have you back, Leah Samantha.”
Samantha looked across the yard at Micah. He stood in his black church suit, smiling as he talked to his friends. Isaac, Jeremiah, Josiah, Tobias and Nathan all stood with him.
She glanced around at her new friends. Raesha and Josie had been in charge of the flowers. Ava Jane and Rebecca had helped with the wedding cake and making Samantha’s pretty light blue dress. Gramma and Naomi had helped with all of it. Jewel, who’d insisted on being the wedding coordinator, had brought Judy Campton and Bettye Willis to enjoy the festivities. Alisha had offered to help Samantha get licensed and settled into a new practice. With the money she’d gotten after selling her Winter Lake clinic, Samantha would build a small animal hospital out back and she’d travel as needed to the area farms.
A perfect day in a special place.
Micah came up to her and held her close. “I’m so glad you landed in my field.”
She laughed and thought about the horror of the summer. Leon would be in jail for a long time, his operation shut down and done. His estate was up for sale. She pitied him, but she had to forgive him, because this had happened. This day.
“I’m home,” she said to everyone who’d gathered around.
Jeremiah tugged Ava Jane close. “We’re all home.”
“Let’s eat cake,” Jed suggested.
Patch barked at that idea.
The sunset hung smiling to the West over the creek, making it sparkle like gold. Samantha had come here to be saved, and that is exactly what had happened.
* * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from In Need of Protection by Jill Elizabeth Nelson.
Dear Reader,
This is the last book of my Amish Seasons five-book series. I fell in love with the small community of Campton Creek, PA. And I have Jeremiah Weaver to thank for that. He came into my head on a day when I was doubting my storytelling abilities. I felt his torment and saw his story. That book was Their Amish Reunion. Since then, I’ve created many characters who return to Campton Creek to find love and faith again.
All of the books are set there, but they all stand alone plot-wise. These characters spoke to me and showed me the way.
In this last book (for now), and once again, the characters showed me the way in writing this emotional story. I wanted to end this phase of the series with returning characters who all come together to help Micah, the Amish man who falls for Samantha Herndon, the woman who was once Amish and is now running for her life. Micah was bitter after a tragic accident and survivor’s guilt, but he’s doing his best to raise his twin siblings.
Samantha has always walked in two worlds—Amish and English. But she, like most of my heroes and heroines in this series, returns to Campton Creek to find safety and solitude. She wasn’t expecting to fall for Micah and the twins.
I think this is how life works—sometimes we see God in our minds and feel Him in our hearts, but we’re afraid to let Him in completely. We seek refuge in many places and in many ways, running toward that elusive dream of perfection. But as these stories have shown, life is not perfect. But God’s love and the faith of family and friends can bring us that perfect peace of knowing we are not alone. I hope you’ve enjoyed this series and if you haven’t read the other books, I hope you’ll consider doing that. These stories have helped me through some bad seasons of life.
And who knows, you just might find me back in Campton Creek, seeking refuge again!
Until next time, may the angels watch over you. Always.
Lenora Worth
WE HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS BOOK FROM
Courage. Danger. Faith.
Find strength and determination in stories of faith and love in the face of danger.
6 NEW BOOKS AVAILABLE EVERY MONTH!
In Need of Protection
by Jill Elizabeth Nelson
ONE
Lara Werth gasped and lunged upright in bed, heart in her throat. What was that sound? The hair-raising wail wound up a notch. A baby was crying in her house? Then her shoulders relaxed. That’s right. She had company.
Her best friend from high school, Isabelle Storlen, or at least that had been her maiden name, had suddenly showed up last night. The long-lost friend rang Lara’s doorbell just after midnight with her three-month-old baby in tow. Izzy had said she was on the run from her abusive husband, the infant girl�
�s father, and had the bruises to prove it. She’d driven twenty hours straight from their home city of Chicago to Lara’s house in Jackson, Wyoming.
What else could Lara do but offer mother and daughter asylum until morning when they could call the police? At least calling the police is what Lara had wanted to do right away, but her friend had adamantly refused. Maybe Izzy would be more reasonable this morning? But why wasn’t her friend rousing to take care of her baby?
Lara’s bedside clock said 6:01 a.m. Right on target with the time Izzy had predicted her daughter would wake them all up. Lara rose and donned her slippers and robe, then padded up the hallway to the guest-bedroom. Knocking, she called Izzy’s name. There was no answer except for an increase in the urgency of the baby’s wailing. Lara cracked open the door and peered inside. The bed was made—almost like it had never been slept in. She stepped fully into the room. No one was present except little Maisy in her infant seat, bawling and kicking.
Next to the baby carrier sat a large bag Isabelle had brought in with her—a diaper bag, judging by the images of baby toys embroidered all over it. Atop the bag lay a short stack of papers. Lara snatched them up. The top sheet was a handwritten note that said “I’m sorry. Maisy is safer with you. My husband will never suspect she’s here. Look after her for me and tell her that Mommy loves her.”
The bottom dropped out of Lara’s stomach. The message couldn’t mean what she thought it meant. Izzy hadn’t run off and left her baby behind, had she?
With a dry mouth, Lara turned to the next page. It was an official document with a heading that nearly stopped her heart. “Minor Child Power of Attorney Form.” The boilerplate form looked like it had been grabbed off the internet, but it was fully filled out, signed and notarized. Her name, Lara Werth, was neatly printed in the spot for the individual delegated as power of attorney for “custody, well-being and property” of minor child. This couldn’t be real. People didn’t dump their children off with unsuspecting near strangers, did they? Because, after all these years, she and Izzy were all but strangers.
Didn’t the parent need the consent of the person getting the POA before executing a document like this? Lara searched but found no line requiring her signature.
Lara turned to the next sheet in the small stack. It was a one-page will—again boilerplate from the internet—that named her, Lara Werth, as guardian of Izzy’s child in the event of Izzy’s death. A chill gripped Lara. Isabelle must truly be frightened for her life. Did the father have no parental rights? If not, he must be a more dangerous person than her friend had told her last night. Lara’s stomach churned. Perhaps she should have insisted that they call the police.
She flipped to the final page. It was a list with step-by-step instructions about the care and feeding of little Maisy. Lara exhaled slowly. This was good. Yes, she could do lists. Lists were her friend.
Lara laid the papers on the bed and reached for the wailing infant, but the clamor of the doorbell stopped her. Who could that be? Had Izzy rethought her outrageous plan and returned for her daughter? Had to be.
“Hang in there, sweetie,” she told the crying infant. “I’ll be back in a flash, hopefully with your mother.”
A pacifier lay in the car seat, next to the baby. Lara grabbed it and popped it into the child’s mouth. The crying subsided. The doorbell rang again, long and loud, as if someone was jamming their thumb on it and not letting up. She could understand Izzy being anxious to be reunited with her child.
“I’m coming!” Lara called out as she hustled to the foyer and opened the door, a greeting for her friend on her lips.
Her smile faded as she stared up into a pair of steely eyes set in a granite face. But it was the gun in the man’s hand, pointed straight at her, that sent her heart into gymnastics.
“Give me the kid.” The man’s thin lips hardly moved as he spoke, and the creep factor escalated to a new level.
A second male figure, tall and muscular, charged onto her lawn from behind the cedar hedge that divided her property from her neighbor’s. This one carried an even larger weapon, trained on the man who held the gun in her face.
“Drop it, Seton,” the second man said in a flat, no-nonsense tone. “Deputy Marshal Ethan Ridgeway here. You’re under arrest.”
The first man snarled a swear word, swiveled slightly toward the threat and reached for Lara with his free hand as if he would grab her and use her as a human shield. Not happening! A scream tore from Lara’s throat even as her fist flew out and connected with the man’s shoulder. He staggered, and she ducked away and slammed the door. A gun went off and then a second shot barked on the heels of the first.
A male voice yelped, and something heavy thudded onto the porch. Her assailant getting the worst of it from the deputy? A gun battle was taking place right outside her front door. How could this be happening? Lara’s arms and legs turned to useless appendages frozen to her body as her pulse thundered in her ears. From the guest bedroom, Maisy’s crying began again, but she couldn’t attend to the child yet.
“You’re safe,” hollered a deep voice from outside. “We’re taking custody of the suspect now, ma’am.”
We? She’d seen only one deputy running onto her lawn. Maisy’s continued crying tugged at her, but Lara needed to call the local police first. She didn’t know these people outside her house. Lara darted for her phone in the charger on the table beside the sofa. Her 9-1-1 call took only a few seconds, and after the assurance that help was on the way, she hauled in a deep breath, the first time she’d fully filled her lungs since she opened her door. The creeping dizziness in her brain began to recede.
A firm rap sounded on the door. “Are you all right, ma’am?”
“I’m okay.” Her voice quavered. “Who’s out there?”
“Deputy Marshal Ethan Ridgeway and my partner, Terrill Reed. You don’t need to worry about the guy who accosted you. He’s disarmed and cuffed.”
On hesitant feet, Lara returned to the door. “I’m going to open up to the length of the chain, but I expect to see your credentials first thing.”
“No problem.”
She opened the door and peered out to find a pocket folder inches from her face, displaying the official documentation of a deputy US marshal. Her gaze lifted from the folder and to the man’s blue shirt, where a badge gleamed. At last, she looked into the deputy’s vivid hazel-brown eyes. He had blond hair and a strong face with well-defined features. Youngish, maybe a few years older than her twenty-nine years. Under the strength and calm of his expression, tension eased from Lara’s muscles.
“What is going on?” At least her voice came out firm this time and not a half octave too high.
“Let me in and I’ll explain, ma’am. We need to work fast and get you ready to go. It’s not safe for you here right now.”
“Go?” There went that extra-high tone again, but really, this was too much.
She had a screaming baby on her hands, a gun had been poked in her face by a very scary stranger and now she was about to be carried off by the US Marshals Service, no less? How had her neatly sculpted world suddenly been wrenched off its axis?
* * *
Ethan stared down into one-half of the young woman’s pale and drawn face peering out at him from the gap allowed by the chain. Her multihued hazel eyes narrowed. Then she shut the door, the chain rattled and the door opened fully.
She wagged a cell phone at him. “I’ve called the police and requested an ambulance.”
“Good,” his partner, Terry, said from a crouched position over the wounded gunman, who lay groaning on the porch. “Not sure we need the police, though.”
“The locals are more than welcome on the scene,” Ethan told the woman. “They need to be apprised of what’s happened in their town. Would you tell me your name, ma’am?”
“Sure, if you’ll agree to stop calling me ma’am. I’m Lara Werth, and aga
in, I’m asking what’s going on here.”
Ethan assessed the woman in front of him. Late twenties or thereabouts—several years younger than him. Her shoulder-length corn-silk hair fell in loose waves around a heart-shaped face. Petite in height and frame, she stood not quite as tall as his chin, but her fierce expression would give anyone pause, particularly if they witnessed the mean right jab she’d delivered to the thug who’d held her at gunpoint.
“I’m not sure what part you play in our case, Ms. Werth, but we followed the man who attacked you across the state to your house. We believe you have what he wanted.”
“And what might that be?”
Wails from deeper inside the house answered the question.
“Vincent Drayton’s granddaughter,” he said.
All color washed from Ms. Werth’s face. “The Vincent Drayton? The international gunrunner from the news?”
“That’s the one.”
“But Izzy told me Maisy’s father is after her, not her grandfather.”
Ethan took a small step forward, but Ms. Werth gave no ground. “We need to speak to Isabelle Drayton immediately. Please ask her to come out here or bring me to her. We have intelligence that she is in danger. She—all of you—certainly need our protection.”
Ms. Werth frowned up at him. “Izzy’s gone. She left the baby with me.”
Gone? Ethan’s heart fell. “When did she leave?”
“Sometime during the night. Come in.” Ms. Werth jerked her head toward the interior of the house and stood aside to let him pass.
As she shut the door, the scream of sirens began to draw near outside. Ethan paid them no mind. Terry could handle the local police and EMTs. He followed his hostess into a neat and clean living room furnished for modern comfort with tasteful rustic touches.