Fall from Pride

by Karen Harper

  The red car—some kind of sporty one—must be doing eighty down this two-lane road. What if either of them hit a car or, worse, a buggy? People were out on the roads. He’d lose the trust the Amish had offered him. Police vehicles, even an occasional fire truck rushing to emergencies, sometimes hit and killed innocent civilians. He’d be pulled off the case; a crash investigation would take precedence over stopping the arsons.

  As the red car crested a hill ahead and disappeared, Nate cursed the beautiful terrain again. It screwed up long-distance vision, communications and safety. He should call the sheriff, but he’d left his phone in the back of VERA. As he reached the top of the hill and saw a farm wagon pulling out ahead between him and Jacob, who must have just missed it, he knew the chase was over. He slowed, turned around in a driveway and went back. He wanted to check to see that Sarah was all right, find out what she’d learned.

  “You didn’t catch him.” Sarah stated the obvious when he got back to where she was waiting. People he didn’t know—a man and woman in a buggy—were with her and they’d managed to get Sally out of the ditch.

  “I’ll get the sheriff after him,” he assured her. “I’ve got his license plate, and Gabe gave me a lead on where he might be staying. VERA wasn’t built for high speed.”

  She looked like a drowned cat for the second time in two days, but beautiful nonetheless. Even her hair was wet this time. He was glad the others were there or he would have lost his temper over her endangering herself. She was definitely coming off this case, because if she got hurt he would never forgive himself.

  “I’ll be fine,” she told him as if she’d read his mind. “These are the Rabers, and they can help us get the buggy out.”

  He thanked the couple, then gently pulled Sarah off to the side. “After this,” he told her, “I’m not leaving you alone off your property—maybe not even on it.”

  “I had the phone with me but it didn’t work—that is, before it went for a swim here.”

  “That, at least, was not entirely your fault. Let’s blame the hills, or the fact I put the antenna down after I talked to Gabe and he mentioned you were going to stop at Getz’s. But I see it was Jacob I should have been worrying about.”

  She petted and sweet-talked the horse while he got a rope out of VERA and, with Mr. Raber’s help, tied it to the buggy. Reuben Schrock came along the road and together they got the buggy righted and out of the ditch.

  Though he could tell Sarah wanted to argue with him, Nate asked Mr. Schrock to take Sally and the buggy to his place and said they’d retrieve them later, because he had to take Sarah to the sheriff to report the incident. “Ya, sure,” the bearded church elder told him. Then he added, “You think Jacob Yoder burned the barns, Mr. MacKenzie?”

  “We’re going to find out and stop him if he did,” Nate promised, then thanked everyone again and hustled Sarah, who was starting to shiver, into VERA. As he went into the back to get a blanket for her, he realized whatever had just happened between Sarah and Jacob meant he had to keep her off the case for her safety and his sanity.

  Sarah wrapped herself in Nate’s blanket. The water quickly soaked it, but he must have known the seat would get wet. Ditch water from her hair and smashed bonnet dripped down her back. Though it was quite mild outside, Nate closed the windows and turned on the heater, but he kept glaring at her as if this was her fault—and, of course, Jacob’s desperation aside, it was. And he hadn’t even heard that she’d misstepped with Mike Getz today.

  “Your career as assistant arson investigator is over,” Nate said, his expression tense and his voice harsh. “He could have drowned you back there. It’s my fault, too. I should have told you not to leave your farm—not that that wouldn’t keep someone from coming onto it.”

  “I will not be kept a prisoner on or off the farm, even if the arsonist is targeting the barns because of my painted quilt squares. But I don’t think Jacob meant to kill me. He was trying to make me go with him.”

  “Oh, fine. Abduction. And then when he got you alone, what?”

  He darted another hard look at her, then hunched over the steering wheel. Though he was chasing no one now, he was still driving too fast.

  “I was so angry I wasn’t thinking that he could have hurt or killed me,” she admitted. “Actually, when he shoved me into the ditch water, I recalled the horrible time Ella almost drowned.”

  “Don’t change the subject.”

  “But I need to tell you about something else. I may not have found out whether Jacob was guilty of arson, but it might not be him who’s lighting fires. I found out Mike Getz couldn’t see the Schrock barn from where Cindee said he did, unless she was confused. So someone lied, and why?”

  “I knew it! I hope Getz wasn’t there when you trespassed.”

  “Unfortunately, he was, but I covered for why I was there. I told him I was going to ask Peter Clawson to take a picture of him again, and he fell for it, not to mention I had a sack of half-moon pies for them.”

  Nate muttered something under his breath. “Sarah!” he said through gritted teeth, “you’ve been a big help to me, but you’ve got to keep clear of all this so you don’t get hurt. You have not been trained or sworn by the fire marshal’s office!”

  “Sworn? Sworn in, you mean? No, only sworn at by Jacob and now you. Nate, I’m scared the barn burner’s targeting not only my people but my paintings—me somehow. But I’m in a good position to find things out.”

  “No way. You let me do that. So did Jacob say anything about resenting your paintings on church leaders’ barns?”

  “No, but he wanted to talk more. He was very upset that I’ve been working with you.”

  Nate muttered under his breath again and she was just as glad she didn’t hear. “Did he say anything that could tie him to the arsons?” he asked. “He no doubt blames you and your people for what he’s done to himself.”

  “Well, if I’m not helping you anymore, I guess I shouldn’t say, but ya, he called me a traitor and more. Still, his being desperate to talk to me and angry at me for helping you doesn’t mean he’s guilty of arson. He denied he had anything to do with the fires but said he knew who did. That’s possible, isn’t it?”

  Nate kept flexing his fingers on the steering wheel, opening them, then gripping it hard. She wondered if he wished he had hold of her neck instead.

  “Isn’t there a saying,” he demanded, “‘With God, all things are possible’?”

  “So Mr. Nathan MacKenzie can quote scripture, too. I wasn’t sure you had a religious bone in your body.”

  “You think I’m some sort of heathen? My foster mother took me to church. I’m a believer.”

  “But not a believer in accepting help from anyone.”

  “Sarah, why are we arguing?”

  “Because you know you need me—for helping solve the arsons, I mean—and you don’t want to admit it.”

  “I just can’t stand it that you could have been hurt.”

  “You were thinking of setting a trap for whoever wrote that note on the Millers’ barn. That’s what happened, only I was almost trapped instead of Jacob.”

  “I refuse to use you as bait. But did Jacob admit to that much—painting the note on the Miller barn?”

  “He didn’t have to. He has dried red paint on his hands. But I suppose, unless you do some kind of chemical test on it, he could say he was just painting over scratches on his red car and spilled a bit of it.”

  “I admire the way you think things through. But I’m expecting the sheriff to go right out to arrest Jacob for assaulting you at the least, and we can keep him locked up that way.”

  Sarah kept noticing the way fields and trees, farms and woodlots, raced past so much faster than in a buggy. But that’s the way she felt her life was going now, kind of out of her control, and it scared her silly, as did what she had to tell Nate next. He had accepted the Plain People’s form of insurance, even their lack of lightning rods and fire alarms, but would he understand her refu
sal to help him with this?

  “Then,” Nate went on, “he can be detained so I can question him. Also, I’ll want a complete statement from you of everything Jacob said.”

  “You can arrest him for assault, but I won’t accuse him or testify against him. We don’t do that. The government courts are not for us. We settle things our own way, in the church, among ourselves.”

  “Sarah! You say you want to help but you won’t testify to the fact he even roughed you up?” Then to her amazement he lowered his voice. “Okay, okay,” he said. “We’ll get him for speeding and an illegal license plate, then. Anything to hold him for a while, until he can at least be questioned. You don’t want to accuse him of assault, I get that, but the barn burnings are an assault on your people. I’m going to nail whoever’s guilty, and I’m betting on Jacob, though I now have another lead I haven’t had time to check out.”

  “Another possible arsonist besides Mike Getz? What happened? You’re not thinking it’s Hannah again, are you? You said most arsonists are men.”

  “Let it go for now. It’s nothing you need to be concerned with.”

  “Of course I do, and you can’t stop me. Or were you planning to abduct me and lock me up somewhere?”

  “To keep you safe—I’d do it. I’m thinking maybe you shouldn’t even paint that new quilt square on your own barn.”

  “My new painting is agreed on. I’m honoring my father’s faith in me by doing it. He knows the risk. The decorated barns draw more tourists in, and the people need that to survive and prosper right now. The Lord will help us through all of this, and you should rely on Him, too.”

  “But that doesn’t mean we should put ourselves in harm’s way. The world can be an evil place, Sarah, obviously even your sheltered Amish world.”

  Of course, stubborn outsider that he still was, Nate was right about that. She had never actually argued with a man, the give-and-take like this, and it was strangely exciting. But if Nate MacKenzie thought she was some shy, sweet Amish woman he could question, kiss and then command to keep quiet, he was dead wrong. She wasn’t saying so right now, but she was in this arson investigation with both feet.

  Nate brought VERA to a stop in front of the small sheriff’s office on the only cross street of the main one through town. Sarah had heard the building had only one cell. She hoped Jacob Yoder would soon be in it and tell them who the arsonist was. At least, if it was him, it would stop the fires, the ones in the barns, though not the ones in her body and heart for this stubborn Englische man.

  After the sheriff heard what they both reported and headed out to arrest Jacob, Nate took Sarah home to dry off and change clothes before he formally deposed her in her kitchen. Sarah wore her hair in a damp, thick braid down her back. After Mrs. Kauffman fed them both, she hovered in the background, putting pastries into boxes and sacks. The sacks started crinkling a whole lot louder while Sarah told him about Mike Getz confronting her. It just proved to Nate again that however much he needed Sarah, he had to keep her out of the loop of the investigation.

  “So,” Mrs. Kauffman said after he took Sarah’s statement, “somehow that modern, two-way phone didn’t work for her. Sarah shouldn’t get too involved with all your things, Nate.”

  The woman’s words rang in his ears: Sarah shouldn’t get too involved…. Was it obvious, especially to a watchful mother, that he and Sarah were getting too close to each other?

  As if to emphasize her mentioning a modern phone, his cell buzzed.

  “Good info on Yoder’s location,” Jack reported. “We’re getting to be a good tag team. I’m bringing him in. You can have first crack at him, then he’s mine.”

  “I appreciate that. The only eyewitness won’t testify against him, and he probably knows that. But I’ve got some other ideas.”

  “Bet you do. See you there.”

  “He arrested Jacob?” Sarah asked.

  “Yes, but we won’t have to hold him for assaulting you, so don’t worry about not testifying.”

  Still hovering, Mrs. Kauffman said, “The sheriff helped Jacob once, but even our shunning did not bring him back. He has been taken over by hochmut, puffing himself up, putting himself first.”

  “Like the old saying ‘Pride goeth before a fall’?” Nate asked.

  “Ya. Exactly,” Mrs. Kauffman said with a firm nod. “In his heart, Jacob is no longer Amish. Hochmut—pride—is what some of our people thought had misled Sarah when she began to paint the big quilt squares, until Bishop Esh spoke up for her. Now we have decided she should paint one on our barn to stand up for her, too. But Jacob may be a lost soul.”

  “I feel bad for his parents,” Nate told her. Even in the dim light that always seemed to characterize an Amish home, he could see where Sarah got her looks. Mrs. Kauffman’s face seemed a faded, plumper portrait of Sarah’s, and both women moved with a purposeful grace. “I don’t have a wife or children to worry about,” Nate went on, “but I can grasp how it is to agonize over someone you love who has gone astray, like the Yoders for their only son.” He almost said something about his father, but he had things to do. Knowing Sarah, though, she knew what he meant.

  “You take care of yourself, Nate,” Mrs. Kauffman said. “Sarah will be right here with me or taking care of her grossmamm. She and Martha can both sleep in the grossdaadi haus tonight.”

  Looking into the woman’s clear blue eyes, Nate nodded. “I value Sarah’s help in this and yours, too,” he told her. “Everyone here has been very kind. Thank you for your hospitality and support.” He almost added, And for keeping an eye on Sarah.

  Nate fought to keep from meeting Sarah’s stare as he made a hasty exit. But as he pulled away from the Kauffman house, he noted the big, bold lines with which she’d sketched her quilt square. The rain had erased some of it, but he had no doubt she would draw it right back there again. And though he was going to try to steer clear of her for both their sakes, he felt her drawing him in again, closer and closer.

  14

  “I HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH THE LOCAL BARN burnings. That’s all I have to say, Mr. Fire Marshal MacKenzie!”

  “Why don’t you just call me Mack?” Nate countered. “Make that M-A-C-K and paint it on the side of a barn and line up a bunch of beheaded little voles pointing to it. You’re in serious trouble here, Jacob.”

  Jacob shrugged and shook his head to get his bangs out of his eyes—he still sported an Amish haircut—but refused to meet Nate’s glare. At least Jacob didn’t deny knowing what he meant. He must have been following Sarah around and figured out that she was helping him with the arson investigation. Had Jacob hoped that barn burnings targeting her paintings would force her to go to him for help, but Nate got in the way?

  Jacob cleared his throat and said, “It’s Sarah’s paintings on the barns that got her in trouble, not me.”

  “Got her in trouble how?”

  “Whoever’s starting the fires must be angry with her for being prideful, no matter what the bishop says. It’s got to be someone Amish, but I’m not part of that anymore.”

  “Being prideful. Hochmut, you mean?” Nate asked, using what he’d learned from Sarah’s mother. Jacob looked surprised. “It’s sad,” Nate went on, “but I don’t think Sarah can be proud of her former fiancé, running with thieves and being shunned. Then he knocks her buggy off the road, threatens and roughs her up.”

  They sat facing each other across a small, bare table in the only cell in the Eden County sheriff’s office. Nate tried to read the young man’s body language as he stayed slumped in his chair, hands thrust in his jeans pockets, one foot tapping against the table leg so it vibrated in a regular beat.

  The sheriff had wanted to book Jacob for stalking, aggravated assault and attempted kidnapping, but he knew those charges wouldn’t stick without Sarah’s cooperation. He’d been through that before with the Amish, he’d told Nate. But charges for speeding, for DUI—Jacob had failed a Breathalyzer test when he drove in with the sheriff waiting at his place—and fo
r driving with an illegal license plate would hold him for a while. The sheriff had read him his Miranda rights, but Jacob had still been eager to talk to Nate. If Jacob had really harmed Sarah, Nate wasn’t sure he could have kept control, but he was trying to set a certain tone here—tough but fair.

  “I know I shouldn’t have got caught up by that car theft ring,” Jacob said, frowning at the table. “But they don’t give a guy a chance.”

  “They?”

  “The Amish, especially the church leaders. Sarah and her family, either.”

  “I have the understanding that they’ll take a penitent back.”

  He looked up, then away again. “A penitent?”

  “Someone who’s truly sorry and wants to mend his or her ways.”

  “They should stick with the person, not throw him to the dogs in the first place.”

  “What dogs have they thrown you to?”

  “I never would have been taken in by car thieves if I’d been treated right, even before I was shunned. Sarah broke off our engagement and everyone supported her, not me.”

  “So none of this is really your fault. It’s hers, right? I can tell you’re angry about it.”

  “Not really, but it just isn’t fair.”

  “Let’s go over your statement again, then. The night of the first fire in Bishop Esh’s barn, even though you were not angry with the unfair Amish, you just happened to be in the area and decided to visit some of them, specifically Sarah’s family.”

  “This is America, freedom of choice and all that!”

  “I’ve got to agree with you there. Maybe because the Amish give their young people freedom of choice to become Amish or not, you wanted to hang out with Gabe Kauffman and his friends.”

  “Those rumspringa gatherings—you know, our…their…so-called running-around time—have outsiders dropping in. I just thought I could see some people I used to know. But when Sarah spotted the fire, I was able to call it in, then ran over there with the rest, that’s all.”