Dark Crossings

by Marta Perry

  Clara asked, “Is that him? Goodness, he is a big man.”

  “Did you want something?” Lena had no intention of getting into a discussion about Isaac. Her feelings were much too disjointed for her to make sense of them.

  Curiosity faded from Clara’s face, to be replaced with a look of deep concern. “I didn’t need anything special. I was…I was just wondering if you had seen my husband today.”

  “Nay, I have not. I’ve been at school all day.”

  Clara’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. “When I saw you in the buggy I thought perhaps you’d been to town. I’m so worried about Brad. He hasn’t been himself since he lost his job. Lately, he’s taken to staying out until all hours of the night. He won’t tell me what he’s doing. He says I have to trust him. I do trust him, only it’s hard when he shuts me out.”

  Lena drew her friend into a comforting hug. “Brad is a good man. If he says you must trust him, then that is what you must do. That doesn’t mean you have to turn a blind eye to his behavior. Don’t stew in silence. Make sure he knows how much you worry about him.”

  “What if he’s seeing another woman?”

  “What man would want another woman when he already has the best? Brad knows how lucky he is to have you. Stop this foolish worry.”

  “But what if he is? Something is going on.”

  “Shall I speak to him for you?”

  “Right! Like he’s going to tell my Amish friend if he’s being unfaithful.”

  “You are letting your imagination poison your heart. Pray for wisdom and guidance. God will answer you.” There was little else Lena could do or say to comfort her friend. The couple would have to work through their problems together.

  Clara pulled away and wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands. “Thank you for listening to me. I don’t know what I would do without your friendship.”

  Lena glanced past Clara to the highway. Isaac’s buggy was already out of sight. She hadn’t recognized the driver that spooked Isaac’s horse, but she had recognized the machine. “Clara, does Brad still have his green four-wheeler?”

  “No, he told me he sold it last week. Why do you ask?”

  “I thought I saw it in the woods today. Do you know who he sold it to?”

  “I don’t, but I can ask him.”

  “Would you? Wait, isn’t that Brad’s truck coming this way?”

  Clara turned to look and her tense body sagged with relief. “It is. That man is going to get a piece of my mind for worrying me so.”

  “I’ve heard Papa tell my sister not to scold her husband when he has an empty stomach. Papa says a man is much more amenable when he is well fed.”

  Clara managed a watery smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Lena waved as Brad turned into the drive. He gave a friendly wave in return and pulled to a stop. Clara walked to his side of the truck as he rolled down his window.

  “Where have you been?” she demanded.

  “Out looking for work, as if you have to ask,” he muttered. He sent Lena an apologetic glance.

  She knew it was best to leave the couple to sort out their troubles, but she wanted to know who’d been driving Brad’s old hunting vehicle through Wilfred Cummings’s woods. “Brad, who bought your four-wheeler?”

  “A guy by the name of Samuel Bow.”

  “Is he a local?” Lena didn’t recognize the name.

  “No, he said he was from Canton. He paid cash, so I didn’t ask any questions. Why?”

  “I thought I saw it today.”

  “That could be. He said he wanted it for hunting wild pigs.”

  So it wasn’t someone she knew. Was Samuel Bow hunting deer instead of pigs? “Have you heard shooting at night?”

  “Yeah.”

  She looked at him in surprise. “Aren’t you concerned that it’s illegal hunting?”

  “There are a lot of people out of work around here, Lena. I can’t blame a few of them for taking a deer or pig by spotlight at night. I just hope they leave a nice buck for me when the season opens.”

  Clara scowled at him. “Like we can afford the license and tag fees.”

  “I’m going hunting, Clara, and that’s the end of it. I’ve given up everything else.”

  It was clear to Lena that there was an argument brewing. She said a quick goodbye and started for home, mulling over what Brad had told her. In spite of what he thought, she knew there was more to the poaching than a few locals filling empty freezers. When she walked in her front door, her sister, Anna, was setting the table for supper.

  Anna, the oldest of the Troyer children, was a widow and nearly twenty years older than Lena. After her husband passed away, Anna had returned home to run her father’s house. Her arrival left Lena free to take up the teaching post and earn some much-needed extra income.

  “Forgive me for being late,” Lena took off her coat and hung it on a peg by the front door. Her father’s hat already rested in its usual place.

  Anna laid the last plate and turned back to the stove. “You will have to hurry if you are to get back to the school in time for the board meeting.”

  Their father walked in from the living room. A short man with a ready smile and bowed legs, Micah Troyer was well loved in the community. “Take the buggy. That will make your trip shorter.”

  “Danki, Papa.”

  Settling in his place at the head of the table, he fastened his gaze on Lena. “What took you so long getting home tonight?”

  She decided not to tell him about her tumble. It was over and she was fine. “I was giving drawing lessons to one of my students and the time got away from us. Isaac Bowman gave me a ride home, but I stopped to talk to Clara for a bit.”

  “More of your sketching is not a good thing, Lena. There is work to be done here at home.”

  Her father tolerated her pastime but didn’t encourage it. He didn’t see how it could be useful to an Amish housewife. Lena decided to change the subject. “I’m going to let the board know I’m concerned about the poaching in the woods around the school.”

  He frowned. “For what reason?”

  Lena raised her chin. “I thought the elders might want to notify the authorities to put a stop to it.”

  Her father ran a hand over his beard as he often did when he was contemplating what to say. “I know you have a tender place in your heart for the deer. This poaching is a bad thing. The Englische law is to be obeyed when it does not conflict with the laws given to us by God and our church. But I don’t see how it is any of your business to try to stop it, Lena.”

  Her hopes that her father would support her were instantly dashed. Briefly, she wondered how Sarah and Abby would handle the situation. Knowing the strength of character it took for both of them to solve crimes in their own communities bolstered Lena’s resolve. This was something she would have to do by herself. She would speak out at the meeting tonight, even without her father’s blessing.

  * * *

  ISAAC SAT AT THE BACK OF the schoolroom on one of the benches that had been set up for the men. The women, including Lena, sat across the aisle. She didn’t appear to be suffering any ill effects from her fall.

  Throughout the meeting, his gaze was constantly drawn to her face. She had something on her mind; he could tell by the way she nibbled at the corner of her mouth. When had he come to know her so well?

  “Do we have any other business?” John’s eyes scanned the room.

  The elder sit
ting beside him bent toward him and spoke softly. John nodded and said, “The building is in need of a few repairs. If you can help, raise your hand.”

  A number of hands went up. Isaac raised his. John wrote down the names and assigned each man a task. Looking at Isaac, he asked, “Can you fix the barn’s hayloft door and see to any other repairs that are needed on the building?”

  Nodding once, Isaac signaled his consent, and John wrote something briefly beside his name. When all the repairs were covered, he glanced around the room. “Is there anything else?”

  Lena raised her hand; John nodded for her to speak. She rose to her feet, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. “As many of you know, the children have reported seeing dead deer in the area and hearing shooting. It is clearly the work of poachers. It may be one man, it may be more. I bring it to your attention because I feel it is an issue that needs to be addressed.”

  Isaac glanced at his cousin to find a deep scowl forming on his face. “I don’t see that this has anything to do with the school board,” John said. “Is there any other school business?”

  Lena didn’t sit down. Isaac had to admire her courage in facing John’s ire. She said, “I believe it is school business when the children are being exposed to danger.”

  Behind her, one of the mothers asked, “Why do you believe our kinder are in danger?”

  “Many of you have heard the shooting late at night. It goes on during daylight, too. Early in the morning and late in the evening, times when the deer are most active and the children are walking to and from school. I’ve seen men in hunting gear watching the school.”

  A murmur moved through the crowd as the parents discussed Lena’s statement among themselves. John’s scowl deepened. He rose to his feet. “I see no need to create panic, Lena. A careful hunter will not mistake a child for a deer.”

  “But we don’t know that these men are careful,” she insisted.

  “What would you have us do? Suspend classes until the hunting stops?” he scoffed.

  Lena blanched, but didn’t back down. “I feel this activity should be reported to the sheriff or the game warden.”

  “We do not concern ourselves with the actions of outsiders and we do not bring outsiders in to solve our problems. You know this, Lena. Have you forgotten the teaching of our faith to remain separate from the world?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Gut, then the matter is closed.” John sat down.

  “But what if the hunter is one of us?” Lena added quickly.

  Isaac could tell his cousin had reached the limit of his patience as he rose and addressed the crowd. “Does anyone here know who is hunting deer out of season? Are any of you to blame?”

  Stark silence followed his question.

  John focused a stern glare on Lena. “Are you satisfied that it is not one of us?”

  Isaac read displeasure on many of the faces around him. Lena had made a mistake by suggesting the poacher might be one of them.

  He saw that she realized her error, too. She lowered her gaze. Bright spots of color stained her cheeks.

  John glared at her. “Your job is to teach the children, Lena Troyer, not to question your elders or seek to involve the Englische in our lives. I have made that point before. I will not repeat it again.”

  Lena sat down. John’s threat was clear. Leave the subject alone or risk losing her job.

  * * *

  LENA FELT THE EYES of everyone on her as she struggled to bear her humiliation with dignity. Most of these parents had supported her in the past, but she had foolishly suggested one of them, or a member of their family, might be poaching. She wasn’t sure they would speak up for her again if John Miller decided to replace her.

  She cringed at the thought of her father hearing about this. He would, she was sure of that. It was best that he hear it from her and not from someone else. She waited in growing discomfort for the meeting to end.

  The moment the group was dismissed, she scurried out the door to her waiting buggy. She wasn’t fast enough, because Isaac was there a second later.

  “For what it’s worth, I appreciate your concern for my daughter’s welfare,” he said quietly.

  Would a poacher offer kind words of comfort? If only she knew for certain that he wasn’t involved. “But you think John is right and I shouldn’t go to outsiders.”

  “You have done all you can without incurring the ire of many.” After unhooking her mare from the hitching post, he stood beside her buggy.

  She slipped past him, climbed into the front seat and held out her hands. “I can’t stand by and do nothing.”

  He didn’t give her the reins. “Be careful, Lena. John is not a man to trifle with. You could lose your job over this.”

  She had only the starlight overhead to help her read his face. It wasn’t enough. She wanted to know what was in his eyes. Was he truly concerned for her? Or did he want her to stop pressing the issue for his own selfish reasons? She wished she could tell. How could she be attracted to a man she wasn’t sure she could trust?

  “I didn’t know I loved teaching until all this began to happen,” she said. “But I won’t let that love be used against me. There is evil in our woods. Turning a blind eye to it only allows it to grow.”

  More people were coming out of the school. She didn’t want to speak to anyone else. “I must get home.”

  Isaac hesitated, as if he wanted to say something more, but in the end handed over the reins. “Good night, Lena Troyer. May God travel with you.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  LENA’S FATHER WAS UPSET and made no bones about it when she told him about the board meeting. She endured a long, stern lecture about respecting her elders. At the following Sunday service, only two of her friends spoke to her before the preaching. After the bishop’s fiery sermon on living apart from the world, avoiding worldly involvement and showing those who advocated such the error of their ways, no one spoke to her at all.

  She’d been given a small taste of what it would be like to be shunned. She didn’t care for the feeling.

  On Monday, all her students were subdued. None of them talked about the poaching. Even the twins kept silent on their favorite subject in spite of the fact that Lena had heard gunfire over the weekend and knew some of the children must have, too.

  Classes went smoothly during the day, but she had a hard time keeping her mind on her work. It was a huge relief when it was finally time to dismiss everyone.

  She stepped out of the school after the last student was gone, and pulled the door closed. Once more she had a choice to make. She could go home and keep silent, or she could try again to stop the poaching. Her family and her church had made it clear which path she should choose.

  After crossing the bridge, Lena reached the highway and turned toward home, but she had one stop to make first.

  Wilfred Cummings lived a half mile from the school in an old, two-story stone house set back in the woods. He loved the wildlife that flourished in his forest and enjoyed seeing the sketches Lena drew. She hadn’t been to visit him since his stroke, and that was remiss of her. She considered the elderly man a friend.

  It had been Wilfred who’d showed her the trapdoor in the bell tower. The school building had originally belonged to his family and he’d been a teacher there. When Lena told him she’d taken the teaching position, he’d driven her to the school and pointed out the hidden opening.

  He admitted that he’d rigged
the trapdoor in the roof so that he might watch for a special girl coming home in the evenings. She’d worked at her father’s store in town and he’d objected to her seeing Wilfred. Her father often walked home with her, but if she was alone, Wilfred would hurry out to meet her. His eyes had misted over when he’d told the story, and Lena knew he was talking about the woman who’d become his wife, a woman who’d died long before Lena knew him.

  When she came within sight of Wilfred’s house, she saw that the yard was overgrown and untrimmed. A gray car and a black, mud-splattered truck sat in the gravel driveway. Lena spotted a curtain moving in an upper-story window, so it looked as if someone was home. She drew a deep breath to firm her resolve, then approached the front door and knocked.

  Instead of the stooped figure of Mr. Cummings, a woman in her mid-forties answered the door. She looked Lena up and down with a faint scowl. “May I help you?”

  This had to be his granddaughter. Lena smiled. “Hello. I’m Lena Troyer. I live nearby. I was hoping to speak to Mr. Cummings about an important matter.”

  “Mr. Cummings is sleeping. If you have come hoping to convert my grandfather to your religion, you are wasting your time.”

  Stunned at her assumption, Lena shook her head. “Oh, no. The Amish do not seek to convert anyone to our ways. Each person’s path to God is their personal journey to make.”

  The woman relaxed a fraction. “I apologize for jumping to conclusions. I’m Glenda Carter. Wilfred is my grandfather.”

  “You are forgiven. Many people have misconceptions about our faith. When do you think it would be possible for me to see your grandfather?”

  “It’s hard to say. He’s very elderly.”

  “Ja, I’ve known him since I was a child. My grandmother told me that he donated the land and the building for our school when she was a young girl.”

  “How odd, since he isn’t Amish.”

  “Odd perhaps, but very generous. I am the teacher at the school.”

  The frost returned to Glenda’s eyes. “If you’re looking for a donation, I’ll give him the message. However, I warn you, he isn’t likely to part with any of his money. He’s become a real Scrooge in his old age.”