Love Inspired June 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: The Cowboy's HomecomingThe Amish Widow's SecretSafe in the Fireman's Arms

by Carolyne Aarsen

  Moved to tears, her vision blurred. She stumbled to the stairs and climbed them one by one, her head swimming with momentary dizziness. On the landing she caught her breath before walking into their neat, tiny bedroom. Moments later she found the shirt she’d made for Joseph to wear on their wedding day hanging in the closet next to several work shirts and two of her own plain dresses.

  Sarah tucked the blue shirt on top of a pile of notes and papers she’d put in the brown valise just after he’d died. He used the heavy case when he’d taken short trips to the Ohio Valley area communities to discuss the drought. In a few days she’d use it to pack and leave this beloved farmhouse forever.

  Her dresses and his old King James Bible, along with the last order for hayseeds written in his bold print, went into the case. The Book of Psalms she’d given him at Christmas slipped into her apron pocket with ease. Her memories of him would be locked away in this heavy case, the key stashed somewhere safe.

  Most of her other clothes and belongings would be left. She’d have no need for them now. Mose would take care of her. A fresh wave of anxiety flushed through her. She had no idea if she could go through with this marriage.

  She thought back to Joseph and wondered what he’d think of the drama surrounding her. He’d be disappointed. He’d followed the tenets of the Old Order church faithfully. The rules of the community were a way of life he’d gladly accepted. Yes, he’d be disappointed in her.

  She faced shunning. Bishop Miller preached that those who were shunned or left the faith would go to hell. Joseph was with the Lord. I’d never see my husband again.

  A wave of dizziness caught her unaware and she grabbed the bed’s railings to steady herself. Moments later, disoriented and sick to her stomach, she sat on the edge of the bed and waited for the world to stop spinning. All the stress had frayed her nerves and made her ill.

  A loud knock came from downstairs. Sarah froze. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, not even Marta, but knew she’d have to see her before she left. There were others in the community she’d miss, too. Her distant family members, her old schoolteacher, the friendly Englisch woman at the sewing store...all the people who meant everything to her. They’d wonder what really had happened, why she suddenly had disappeared, but she knew someone would tell them what she’d done. Her head dropped. A wave of nausea rolled her stomach, twisting it in knots.

  The knock became louder, more insistent. She moved to the bedroom window. No buggy was parked out front. Perhaps one of the neighborhood kinder was playing a joke on her. She checked the front steps and saw the broad frame of a man. Had her father come to give her one last stab to the heart? It would be just like him to come and taunt her about her coming marriage to Mose.

  “Sarah? Are you there? Please let me in.”

  Mose’s voice called from her doorstep. He sounded concerned, perhaps even alarmed. Had something happened to one of the kinder? Why would he seek her out? He’d heard it all. He was an elder in his community. Even if he wasn’t Old Order Amish and didn’t live as strict a life as she did, but he’d be angry she’d given the boys money and would judge her. Still, he was a good man, a kind man. Perhaps he just wanted to talk to her.

  The thought of his kindness had her rushing down the stairs and opening the heavy wood door Joseph had made with his own hands. She used the door as a shield, opening it just a crack. “Ya?” She could see a slice of him, his hair wind-blown, blue eyes searching her face.

  “Hello, Sarah. I thought I might find you here.”

  She nodded her head in greeting.

  “Are you all right?” Mose’s hand rested on the doorjamb, as if he expected to be let into the house.

  Sarah held the door firm. “I’m fine. What do you want, Mose? I have things to do. I’m very busy.”

  “I’m worried about you. You’ve been through so much.”

  “And none of it is your business,” Sarah snapped, instantly wishing she could take back her bitter words. He’d done nothing but be kind to her. She missed the girls and wondered how they were, if Marta was still caring for them. She pushed strands of hair out of her eyes and searched his expression. She saw no signs of judgment.

  “You’re right. All this is none of my business, but I am soon to be your husband. I want to help, if I can. Please, can I come in for a moment?”

  On trembling legs, she stepped back to open the door all the way. “Come in.”

  Mose stepped past Sarah into the silent house. Sarah glanced around. Nothing seemed out of place. There was no dust, no evidence anyone even lived here.

  He turned back to Sarah. “I tried to find you after everyone left yesterday. Beatrice was asking for you. Kinder don’t understand why adults do what they do.”

  “I did what everyone is saying,” Sarah blurted out, then offered a seat to Mose, but stood, swaying to and fro.

  “Sit with me before you fall, you stubborn woman.” Mose took Sarah’s elbow, guided her to a wood-framed rocking chair with a padded seat and back rest. She didn’t resist, but once down, her fingers went white-knuckled on the chair’s arms.

  Mose sat on the couch opposite her. “You said there was no misunderstanding. Did you give the boy money so he and his brother could leave the community as the bishop said?”

  “Ya. I did.”

  “Why did you help them? They have a father who’s very worried about them,” Mose said.

  “I’m sure he is concerned. He needs their strong backs to run his farm. They’re better off away from him.” Sarah stared into space, her features ridged, unrelenting.

  “You’ve heard from them?”

  She looked at him. “Ya, I did. They’re staying with their sister, Katherine, in Missouri. She took them in after...” Her voice trailed off.

  “After what, Sarah?” Emotions played on her face. Something was not being said. Mose felt sure she’d acted out of kindness. He hadn’t known her long but felt sure she wasn’t the type to interfere in other people’s business, especially to separate a family.

  Sarah drew in a ragged breath. “After the boy’s father beat Lukas until he could barely move, that’s what. His bruder, Ben, was getting older and had begun to talk back to his father, too. Lukas knew it was only a matter of time before his daed would use the strap on him. Lukas asked me to help them get away. I knew the boy was telling the truth about the risks of more violent beatings. They were in danger.

  “Lukas’s father is a harsh man and had taken to drink. He took his anger out on his sons when the crops failed or something went wrong. Lukas had made the mistake of asking to go on rumspringa with some of his friends in the next community, and his father had flown into a rage. This beating wasn’t the first Lukas had endured, but it was the worst. He was often whipped with a cane. I could hear his cries for mercy blowing across the field that separates our land. Joseph and I had often prayed for the boys, asking Gott for a hedge of protection.” Sarah swallowed hard and went on. “Joseph wouldn’t stand for the whippings and had warned the father, even threatened to talk to Bishop Miller about the situation...but after Joseph died, the beatings began again.”

  Mose reached across and took one of Sarah’s hands and squeezed. Her fingers were cold and stiff. “Does Bishop Miller know all this?”

  Sarah jerked her hand back. “I tried to tell him many times, but he told me to keep my nose out of other people’s business. He said men were supposed to discipline their kinder, but this wasn’t discipline, Mose. This was pure abuse.” Sarah pushed back her hair and gasped. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize my kapp was missing. It must have fallen off when I...” Her head dropped and she sat perfectly still.

  “When you what, Sarah?”

  “I almost fainted. I’ve been ill and forgot to eat this morning.”

  “You need to be in bed with someone taking care of you.”

  “Nee, that’s not possible. The Bishop’s called a meeting. I decided I must be there to defend my actions. I have to at least try.”

&nbs
p; Mose watched her as she spoke. He could see she was terrified of being shunned. Who wouldn’t be? As strict as Bishop Miller was, anything was possible, including shunning. “I could speak to the Bishop and the elders and see if—”

  “Nee, danke for offering, but I’d rather you didn’t.”

  “He may still declare you shunned, even if we marry and you leave the community.”

  She paled a chalky white. “But...I thought if I left, all that could be avoided.”

  “Nee. I don’t think he’s feeling generous, but I could be wrong.”

  “Then shunned it is. I’ll have to learn to live with it, though I don’t know how.”

  Mose leaned forward, their gaze connecting. He meant it when he’d promised security, strength. Things she no longer had. “Don’t fret, Sarah. Gott will make a way.”

  * * *

  Sarah checked the position of her kapp and dreaded the thought of what was about to take place this evening. Mose sat tall and straight, his hands folded in his lap, the picture of calm. She wished she had his determination. She was too emotional lately. Everything seemed so hard, as though she was climbing a hill, her feet sliding out from under her in slippery mud.

  The moments ticked by. The room darkened as dusk surrendered to the shadows of night.

  The heavy door to the bishop’s chambers opened with a squeak. Sarah jumped.

  Mose stood, pulling her up off the chair as he took his first step forward. She hesitated. He turned back to her. “All will be well, Sarah. Leave it to me. I will be your strength.”

  She knew the bishop. Doubt flooded in. She tried to clear her thoughts and prepare herself for the ugly confrontation.

  An old wood table with chairs all around filled the small, stifling room. “Sit here, Sarah, and you there, Mose,” Karl Yoder prompted, motioning to two empty chairs positioned at the middle of the table. The position would place them directly across from Bishop Miller. The elder walked with them toward their chairs. A distant cousin, she’d known Karl all her life. He’d been Sarah’s favorite church leader growing up. She’d gone to him and his wife when life had gotten to be more than she could bear as a teenager. She wondered what he thought of her now. He looked stern, but flashed a smile, giving her hope.

  Hands were extended to Mose as he greeted each man. He introduced himself to those who didn’t know him. Sarah counted six men at the table. Sneaking a glance at Bishop Miller, she saw his jaw tighten. Just for a second their eyes met and she quickly looked away, only to notice her father sitting bent over in the corner of the room. She averted her gaze and looked down at the floor. Her hands gripped in a knot on her lap. She waited. Mose cleared his throat, the only nervous sound he’d made since they’d come into the room.

  Ernst Miller, the bishop’s son, stood. “This meeting is called to discuss the matter of Sarah Nolt.”

  Off to the side, Sarah’s father rose, almost knocking over his seat. He blurted out, “I want to know why Mose Fischer is allowed to sit in on this meeting? He’s not a member of our community. What’s going on today has nothing to do with him.”

  “All will be explained in good time,” Ernst assured him and motioned for Adolph to take his seat.

  The high color in her father’s cheeks told her he was in a fine temper and nothing they said would keep him calm.

  “As I was saying,” Ernst continued, his tone holding a slight edge. “We are here to discuss the recent actions of Sarah Nolt.” His gaze drifted to Sarah.

  She looked directly in his eyes. Don’t let him ask me about the beatings. She had enough problems without stirring up a hornet’s nest of accusations against her neighbor, accusations she couldn’t prove.

  “How well did you know Lukas and Benjamin Hochstetler?”

  “Not well,” she replied. “I knew they lived at the farm next to ours. They moved in several weeks after Joseph and I married.” Bringing up Joseph’s name set her heart pounding. She paused for a few seconds and then continued, “I used to take the boys drinks of cool water on hot afternoons when they’d plowed the field closest to our home.”

  “So you did get to know them well?” Ernst asked.

  “Not really. They were always busy about the farm and I seldom left the house, so that didn’t leave much time for socializing.”

  “But you spoke to them from time to time?”

  “Yes, I did. I liked the boys. They were lonely, hardworking kinder and seldom saw people other than their fa—”

  “How did you hear they had run away and ended up in Missouri?” The bishop spoke up, stepping on her last word. Ernst sat down, content to let his father continue.

  Sarah pulled her feet under her skirt. How do I answer this without digging up more dirt? “I received a letter.”

  “A letter from Lukas?”

  “Nee. The letter was from Benjamin.”

  The Bishop’s voice rose. “Not from Lukas?”

  “Nee.” Sarah shook her head.

  Bishop Miller leaned forward on his elbows. “What did the letter say?”

  Sarah couldn’t help but smile, remembering Benjamin’s barely legible scrawl. The note told about the joy he felt with his sister’s family. “He said they had arrived in Missouri and that their sister was happy to see them.”

  “Did you know they were going to Missouri?”

  “Nee. I didn’t.” Sarah was glad she could answer with honesty. Lukas had never told her their destination, only that family wanted them.

  A man, someone Sarah was unfamiliar with, leaned over to the Bishop and spoke quietly in his ear. The man spoke at length. Each word seemed to last an eternity. Finally the man sat and Bishop Miller continued.

  “Sarah Nolt. Did you give money to Lukas, knowing he planned to use the funds to leave this community?”

  Sarah swallowed hard, preparing herself for what was to come. The truth had to come out, whatever the cost. “Ya, I did.”

  Loud conversation broke out amongst the men. Bishop Miller slammed his fist on the wood table to regain control of the room.

  “You know what you’re admitting to, what the consequences could be?”

  Mose stood, surprising Sarah. “The only thing she’s admitting to is helping the boys out of a life-threatening situation, nothing more. In all fairness, I think this question should be asked.” He turned to her. “Sarah, why did you help the boys?”

  The same poker-faced man leaned over and spoke to the Bishop again. A quiet barrage of words went back and forth before the question was asked by the bishop. “Why did you feel it necessary to help the boys, Sarah?”

  The loud heartbeats in her ears made it hard for her to hear his question. She looked at Mose and he nodded, encouraging her to tell them her story. “Joseph and I made it a habit to sit out on the porch swing each evening. Right after the Hochstetler family moved into the old farm across the field, we often heard the sound of a child crying and a man yelling in anger. More than once Joseph hurried over to the farm and would come back red-faced with frustration. He wouldn’t tell me what happened, but the child’s crying always stopped.”

  “Did you ever ask Lukas about these times?” The man sitting next to the Bishop asked this question.

  Sarah pulled on one of the strings to her prayer kapp, working out how she could speak without some kind of proof. “He told me his father often whipped him with a strap.”

  The bishop stood. “We spoke of this before, Sarah. You were told to stay out of this family’s business. I spoke to the father myself. He said the older boy was rebellious and had to have these whippings as a form of correction.”

  Sarah looked up, holding Bishop Miller’s gaze. “Did he tell you he beat Lukas so badly the child couldn’t walk for a time? Or about the scars on the child’s back from being whipped with a buggy whip? Would you have whipped your son in this manner, I wonder? Would you lock him up in a chicken coop for a week with nothing to eat but raw eggs?”

  “Kinder are prone to lie, Sarah. We all know the problem you had
with lying as a teen.”

  The bishop’s voice cut into her like a knife. She’d cried out for help as a child, but no one had taken notice of her father’s cruelty.

  “I did not lie as a child, and I do not lie now. It’s all true. I have no proof, but I have the satisfaction of knowing I helped rescue those boys from an abusive father, someone Joseph kept in line until his death.”

  Her father was out of his chair and leaning over Sarah in seconds. “Do you accuse me of abuse, too?” Fury cut hard edges into his face.

  Mose rose and stood next to Sarah. “This is not the time to—”

  “This is the perfect time to bring up this girl’s past.” Adolph bent low, shaking his finger in Sarah’s face. “This is all a lie, isn’t it, Sarah? A lie about me and a lie about the reason you sent the boys away.”

  Sarah took in a deep gulp of air, stood and prepared for the worst. “I did not lie about you. You are cruel, Father.” She faced him. Her heart hammered.

  “I’ve lived this lie long enough. It is time for all to be made clear,” Adolph yelled at the bishop.

  Bishop Miller jumped to his feet and walked toward Adolph. “This is not the time or place, Herr Yoder.”

  “It is the perfect time, Ralf. I will not be silent and have my good name tainted by this girl. She is no longer my responsibility and I want no further contact with her. She brings back painful memories, memories I need to forget.”

  “Years ago we agreed—”

  “You told me what I had to do, and I did it. But I will not be held responsible any longer. I have done my share of giving to this community when I married her mother, that pregnant Amish woman.”

  Sarah’s body shook with cold. Blood drained from her face. “What are you saying, Daed?”

  “Don’t call me daed again, Sarah Nolt. I am not your father. Your father was an Englisch drunk.”