Guarding The Amish Midwife (Amish Country Justice Book 6)

by Dana R. Lynn

  Today was the day that she would become Isaac’s wife. She grinned.

  Returning to the house, she saw that more women were in the kitchen with her mother. A quick breakfast was served, then she went upstairs to get ready for the service. Lizzy donned the purple dress she’d wear for her wedding. She had made it, of course. Her mamm had smiled at her through tears when she had seen it on Lizzy two days before.

  “Ack! I am a foolish woman, jah? I thank Gott that you found a gut man like Isaac. Your dat and I have prayed for you to find someone.”

  Lizzy understood. Her fears and her anxiety had caused her parents much concern, for they worried she’d end up alone and sad. Lizzy tugged on the apron she’d made and pulled on the black boots. A black bonnet went on over her everyday prayer kapp. She was ready.

  She could hear the guests beginning to arrive. The service would start precisely at eight-thirty, and be held outside in the barn. Partly because there were going to be far more people coming than just the normal twenty families in their district. Isaac’s family and many of the members of his community had traveled to attend the wedding.

  And then there would be bleachers set up outside of the barn for their non-Amish guests. The bishop had granted permission for Isaac’s former police colleagues to attend. She had no doubt that Ryder and Isaac would remain friends, even though Isaac was no longer a police officer. The bishop had also given Isaac permission to continue breeding and training dogs. Ryder, she knew, hoped to convince his chief to let him work with one of Isaac’s dogs.

  In addition to the cops, Rebecca and her husband, Miles, were in attendance with their son. Lizzy smiled thinking of her sister. Rebecca had confirmed to her privately that she and Miles would be having a second child in the spring. Amish women generally didn’t share that news, but Rebecca and Lizzy had been through so much together that they had no secrets.

  A mere three and a half hours later, Lizzy was standing beside her new husband. He looked dashing in his black suit and white shirt, accompanied by a new bow tie.

  “What are you thinking, Lizzy, that has you smiling?” Isaac whispered, his warm breath tickling her ear.

  “I am thinking that I am blessed. And—” she tossed him a flirtatious wink “—that when we are alone, I will have one last opportunity to feel your jaw without whiskers.”

  He blushed slightly, but winked back. He had shaved his beard for the last time this morning. From here on out, he would allow his beard to come in as a sign that he was a married man, although he would continue to shave off his mustache.

  Rebecca and Miles approached them.

  “Where’s my nephew?” Lizzy signed and voiced at the same time for her husband’s benefit.

  “He’s with his doting grandmother,” Miles responded.

  Raising a single eyebrow, Lizzy looked around for her mother. Martha Miller was indeed proudly showing off her grandson, Connor.

  “Someday, she’ll be doing that with our children,” Isaac murmured, and it was her turn to blush.

  “Beheef dich,” she whispered fiercely, telling him to behave himself. He merely grinned back at her.

  Soon, Martha called out, “Cumme esse!”

  “Mamm says it’s time to eat,” Lizzy signed to her sister.

  Isaac took her hand and led the way into the house to the seats of honor in the corner of the living room where tables had been set up. Not all the guests would eat at the same time. She and Isaac were in the first group. Although she wasn’t exactly sure how much she would actually be able to eat today. Her stomach was still full of butterflies. She sat on Isaac’s left. Just as she had watched Mamm sit on Dat’s left in the buggy all the years of their married life. The women were seated on her side of the table, and the men were seated on Isaac’s side.

  “You know, in the Englisch world, couples sit together. There is no separation of the women and men,” Isaac informed her.

  “Jah, I know that.” She shrugged. “I like our way.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, but I’m happy to sit next to you today. Have I told you how beautiful you are today?”

  Happiness filled her. “I’m glad. I wanted you to be pleased.”

  “I’m more than pleased,” he responded, his gaze warm. “I’m blessed beyond all my dreams. I have my faith back, have reconciled with my family and have been granted the gift of marrying a woman I love with my entire self.”

  “Oh, Isaac. I thought that this blessing would pass me by. But Gott knew that I needed a special man. He knew I needed you. I love you so much.”

  Later, when she had stepped outside after the evening meal, Isaac joined her in the shadows. He turned her toward him and bent, kissing her lightly. Her pulse pounded in her ears. She brought her hand up to trace his strong jaw. Tears spurted to her eyes as she felt the slight scratch of whisker stubble there. The joy bubbled up inside at the tactile sign that he was now her mann.

  She leaned her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes on a sigh. God was so good. Soon, they would make their way to Ohio, where they would live with his mother. Lizzy knew that couples usually stayed near the bride’s family, but she had told Isaac that she wanted to move. It was true. He had been apart from his family for so long, and his mother was a widow.

  Moving to Ohio would also be a new start for her, a sign that her past was truly over.

  They would come to LaMar Pond often enough to visit. And she knew that Rebecca and Miles would be frequent visitors.

  She was content.

  * * *

  If you enjoyed this book, don’t miss the other heart-stopping Amish adventures from Dana R. Lynn’s Amish Country Justice series:

  Plain Target

  Plain Retribution

  Amish Christmas Abduction

  Amish Country Ambush

  Amish Christmas Emergency

  Find more great reads at www.LoveInspired.com.

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Danger on the Ranch by Dana Mentink.

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  Dear Reader,

  If you’re like me, you love visiting new places and meeting new people. There’s something fascinating about it. That’s how the Amish Country Justice series has felt to me. I have gotten to know and love the characters in LaMar Pond. Including Lizzy Miller, whom we met in Plain Retribution. Guarding the Amish Midwife was a little bittersweet for me. Although I loved seeing a few old characters, I also left LaMar Pond to journey to a new town.

  Waylan Grove is a fictional town in Holmes County, Ohio. I look forward to exploring it with you. It is home to some interesting characters. Such as Isaac Yoder. Isaac and Lizzy both had some issues to work through before they found their happy ending. I enjoyed watching them find their way to each other.

  I hope you enjoyed Lizzy and Isaac’s story. As always, I love to hear from readers. You can find me at www.danarlynn.com. I am also on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram.

  Blessings,

  Dana R. Lynn

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired Suspense story.

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  Danger on the Ranch

  by Dana Mentink

  ONE

  Storm’s coming.

  The illogical notion trickled again through Mitch Whitehorse’s gut as he surveyed the late-afternoon fog choking the windswept cove. Strange, since there was no sign of a weather front moving in through the mist. He fingered the scar that grooved his cheek, the rough patch oddly numb, a dead spot courtesy of his brother. The occasional blurred vision and migraines were an additional reminder of how close he’d come to dying at Wade’s hand.

  But it wasn’t so much the pain of having his occipital bone crushed or the resulting symptoms that stuck in his mind—it was his brother’s smile. Even when Wade was led from the courtroom after the guilty verdict that would send him to prison for life, he’d been smiling right at Mitch, a smile of pure evil, cold as the grave, unrepentant, undefeated.

  Rosie, the big roan mare, shifted underneath Mitch, probably wondering why they were standing on a bluff in the numbing fog, staring out at the crawling Pacific instead of sheltering from the February wind. They’d spent a full day moving a herd of cattle from one pasture to another and chasing down an ailing cow to administer medicine. Straightening, Mitch ignored the twinge in his back, courtesy of his days as a US marshal and the fact that he was now a hardworking cowboy staring forty in the face.

  Storm’s coming.

  There it was again, the warning his instincts kept whispering in spite of what his eyes could see.

  Pure silliness. Nothing could shake Mitch anymore, least of all a mere storm. The worst evil he’d ever encountered, Wade’s heinous killing spree that left three women dead, was over. Wade was in prison, Mitch’s final act as a US marshal before he’d walked away from law enforcement and onto his uncle Gus’s Roughwater Ranch. He hadn’t put Wade’s wife, Jane Reyes, away for life, like he should have. Jane knew all too well that Wade had abducted those women, imprisoned them right on their sprawling property, killed them one by one, except for the last. Oh, he knew she had been an accomplice, but knowing and proving were two different things. Her sentence would have to come later.

  Someone else’s battle to fight.

  He eased the horse into motion. They took the trail down to the beach. Just a short ride to clear his head before they made their way back to his cabin tucked in the grove of trees far away from any living creature except his two horses. He had two, because living things weren’t meant to go it alone, except for Mitch Whitehorse. That was why he didn’t live on the ranch property like the other hands. It was one of the reasons, anyway.

  Down where the salt water scoured the beach, he noticed right away the rough gouge of sand where a boat had been dragged up onto the shore by a trespasser. No sign of the boat now.

  Habit had him reaching for the sidearm that was no longer there, hadn’t been for two years. It was just a boat, he told himself as he dismounted and left Rosie to nose at the clumps of seagrass. Though the beach was property of the ranch, Uncle Gus didn’t mind the odd fisherman or adventuring honeymooners looking for their own quiet stretch of sand.

  But this section of beach was rocky, cold, perpetually blasted by wind, with no calm water to attract fish or people. His cabin was tucked behind the cliff close by, too close, and Mitch did not like people anywhere in the vicinity.

  A clump of rocks rose in an untidy pile on the edge of the sand crescent before it was cut off by the cliffs. Big enough to hide a boat. He approached at an angle—old cop habit. There would be nothing to find but some harmless guy, taking time out to smoke a cigarette, or a beachcomber hunting for shells. The central California coast, after all, was a place that encouraged solitude, and that was why it was perfect for Mitch.

  But the clenched muscles in his gut refused to relax as he reached the rock pile, skirted it and found the boat. It was a plain aluminum vessel with an outboard motor, glinting in the sunlight. Probably a rental from the dive shop. No one around.

  If Mitch was a normal guy, he’d have his cell phone out, taking pictures, calling the local cops to report a trespasser, but he carried no cell phone and never intended to again. He waited, listening over the sound of the waves for the intruder’s whereabouts. Nothing. The wind whipped his battered cowboy hat, threatening to snatch it, as he hunkered down. Nothing and no one, not for the ten minutes he waited there.

  Rosie nickered from the far end of the beach, her way of saying, “Whatsa matter with you?”

  Good question. He turned to go.

  A figure rose up from the rocks above, backlit by the fog-dulled sun. Black ski cap pulled down across the brow, wiry torso covered by a nylon windbreaker, black jeans, booted feet. Mitch could not see clearly for a moment, but he did not need to. His senses could not believe it was his brother, Wade, standing on the rocks staring down, but his heart told him it could be no one else.

  Wade cracked a smile. “Hello, big brother. You’re ugly as ever. Scar hasn’t faded, has it?”

  The ripped edges of the wound had healed, but the real damage never would. His brother, his blood kin, the psychopath, had escaped from prison. Mitch’s worst fear stood above him like the creatures from the old monster movies he’d watched as a kid. He’d stopped watching those flicks when he’d learned that man was the greatest monster of all, this man in particular, his brother, Wade.

  Wade’s left hand was concealed behind his back. Mitch knew what was coming. Wade had him pinned right and proper. Wade was smart, probably smarter than Mitch. Only Mitch’s dogged determination had brought him down, but now Wade had the upper hand in every way.

  You’re an idiot, Mitch, he told himself. Aloud he said, “Finished that prison sentence already?”

  Wade laughed. “You know I’m the impatient type. Remember when I took your horse because Mom wouldn’t let me have the car?”

  He remembered. Wade had whipped the horse until its sides were bloody, and Mitch had been so furious it had ended in a fistfight, with Pops barely able to separate them. It always ended badly when he was anywhere near his brother. The darkness in Wade’s soul rubbed off on those around him, like he suspected it had on Wade’s wife, Jane. Then again, maybe she’d been just as twisted as him from the get-go. Venomous, that was Wade Whitehorse, and anyone who stayed around him long enough got a full dose.

  “Prison didn’t agree with me.” Wade smiled, teeth glaring white in the sunlight. “And I had a few debts to settle up, of course.”

  “So you borrowed a boat and came to find me. I’m flattered.”

  “You’re sloppy, and the boat isn’t mine. I don’t like the water, you remember. I prefer horseback. You have a routine, exercising your horse here along the beach at just this hour. You made it easy. Easier than escaping from the marshals during the prison transfer.” He clucked. “Disappointing.”

  Now the hand came around from behind and Mitch saw the gun. He knew it instantly, bile rising in his throat.

  Wade smiled. “You recognize it, I can tell.”

  “Granddad’s revolver.” Passed down to their father. The first time he’d ever fired a gun had been with that revolver, his father standing tall and proud behind him. He’d loved that gun. “Wondered where it got to.”

  “Pops never let me have it. I hated him for that.”

  “He didn’t want to give a gun to a psychopath.” Mitch shrugged. “It’s called good parenting.”

  Wade’s eyes narrowed for a moment, and Mitch braced for impact. Instead Wade laughed. “It’s okay. I go
t what I wanted. Stole it out of Pops’s gun safe when I was sixteen.”

  “So how do you happen to have it now? Didn’t think they let psychos bring their guns to jail.”

  “My wife stored it away for me. Janey. You remember Janey?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “She’s a good wifey, that Janey, in most ways.”

  Wade’s fixed stare flickered a moment, caught by some movement Mitch couldn’t see on the water’s edge under the rotted dock pilings. His horse? Wade trained the gun away from him.

  “Don’t you shoot that horse,” Mitch snapped.

  Wade turned back, smiled. “I didn’t come here to shoot the horse.” Wade fired as Mitch surged forward in a futile effort. He felt a crease of heat on his temple and then he was falling into darkness. Just before the black closed in, he noticed a plume of smoke arcing over the sand like a striking snake.

  * * *

  She’d been too late. Mitch collapsed to the sand. Berating herself, Jane Reyes fired a second flare, aiming directly for Wade’s chest. She didn’t know if a flare would kill a person, but it might knock him back enough to warn him off. The horse waiting far off on the beach sprang into a gallop, ears pinned.

  A shot whistled over her head, and she ducked down behind the dock pilings that hid her. They were remnants of some rudimentary boat landing that had long ago given way to the sea. Her breath came in panicked gasps as she crouched there. Would he come after her? She had no more flares and only a knife tucked into her boot. She’d been trying to pick out the rugged path up to Mitch’s property, after beaching her rented boat on the shore. Wind plucked at her hair, numbed her limbs.

  Now she was trapped here, no cell reception, Mitch shot and probably bleeding to death, and her ex-husband stalking her from a scant fifty yards away from his perch on the rock pile. There was no one to help. Again she questioned the sanity of a man who lived in a location with limited access, by horseback, boat or on foot. So lonely, so desolate.