by Alison Stone
“Have you heard any rumors about me?” Becky calmly drew his attention back to her. “Perhaps someone wanted to get back at me for hurting Elijah?”
Fear flickered in Amos’s watchful brown eyes. “Neh.”
Harrison tapped the screen of his cell phone and brought up the photos of the four men shooting targets behind her house. “Do you know these guys?”
Amos stared at the screen. “Yah, I’ve seen them all around town.”
“Where exactly?” Harrison pressed.
Amos explained how he knew each of the guys and added a bit on whether he liked them or not. Becky and Harrison both let him keep talking, figuring he might unwittingly reveal something important.
At one of the photos, Amos said, “That kid is the sheriff’s nephew.”
Harrison jerked his head back. “Interesting. What kind of kid is he?”
Amos hitched a shoulder. “Tyler seems all right. Us guys don’t really discuss much.”
“Is he a troublemaker?” Harrison asked.
“Depends on what you call trouble.” Amos smirked. “From where I come from, riding a skateboard and doing stunts could be construed as trouble.”
“Has Tyler been in any kind of trouble?” Becky clarified.
“All I know is that he grew up in Buffalo and his mother sent him to live with his uncle, the sheriff, to straighten him out.” Amos pulled off his hat, adjusted the bill and stuffed it back down on his head. “I imagine that means he got into some kind of trouble back home. That’s all I know.”
“Thanks.” Becky shot Harrison a quick gaze. Not wanting to scare Amos off, she handed him a business card. “I could really use your help. Call me if you’re willing to come in as a witness.”
“Ah, man,” he groaned again, but she could tell he was softening. He’d come through for her; she just knew it.
“If you don’t want to deal with me, go directly to the sheriff’s department and ask for the sheriff.” Becky touched Harrison’s elbow. “Let’s go.”
When they reached the car, Becky said, “I think he’ll come around.”
Harrison nodded. “I hope so. But why didn’t the sheriff tell me Tyler was his nephew when I showed him his photo?”
A knot tightened in Becky’s gut. “Does this mean we can’t trust the sheriff?”
“It means someone’s holding out on us. It means we have to investigate ourselves. We can’t leave it to the sheriff’s department.”
TEN
“We’re going to have to look into the sheriff’s nephew,” Becky said as Harrison drove her home.
“I ran all four guys’ names through the system. Nothing came up.”
“Mind if I look at the photos again?” Becky asked.
Without taking his eyes off the road, Harrison took his phone out of the cup holder and handed it to her. He pressed his thumb on the button to unlock it. “Go to the photo app.”
“Mind if I send the images to my phone?”
“Go ahead. Just not quite sure what we’re going to uncover since none of them have records. Someone needs to start talking.”
“Amos is a start.” She pressed her lips together. “Should we go to each of these guys’ homes? Talk to them directly?”
Harrison scrubbed his hand across his face. “Let me see what I can dig up on the sheriff’s nephew first. If we start asking too many of the guys questions, they might start talking to each other and shut down. Then we’ll get nowhere.”
Becky sighed heavily. “I feel like we’re already getting nowhere. I’m—”
Her phone rang in her hand as she was saving the photos she had sent to her phone, stopping her midsentence. “It’s my sister. I better get this.”
Becky lifted the phone to her ear. “Hi, Mag.”
“Bec-ky.” her sister said her name on a sob.
Becky’s heart dropped to her shoes. “What’s wrong?”
“Paul said they’re going to kill all the dogs they took from his farm and Dat told me it was none of my business and—”
“Stay where you are. I’ll be right there.”
“But Dat is mad. He’ll be mad I called you.”
Anger pulsed through her veins. “I’m sorry, but this has gone on long enough. I’ll be right there.” The thought of her sister alone in the barn, crying her eyes out while talking on their only landline, broke Becky’s heart. She remembered feeling so alone and adrift while growing up on the Amish farm with no one to talk to. She didn’t dare share her deepest thoughts about leaving.
Becky ended the call before Mag could argue. She looked over at Harrison, who cut her a gaze, then turned his attention back to the road. “Mind making a pit stop?”
“Whatever you want.”
It took less than ten minutes to get to her family’s farm. “Want me to park on the road, so my truck’s not visible?”
“No, pull right into the driveway.” Defiance laced her tone. “I don’t care who sees us. They have no right...”
Becky jumped out of the truck before she finished her sentence. She jogged over to the barn and found Mag sitting on a hay bale in the shadows. The fading light of the setting sun created long lines across the barn floor.
Becky sat down next to her sister and put her arm around her shoulders. At this moment Mag seemed so much younger than her seventeen years. She stiffened for a fraction before accepting the gesture and resting her bonneted head on her sister’s shoulder.
“Tell me what happened?”
“The deputies took the puppies this morning.”
“Paul wasn’t taking care of them. You know that.” She nudged her sister’s shoulder affectionately. “And now I’m blessed to have Chewie.”
“That’s a silly name for a dog,” Mag said distractedly.
“But appropriate.” Becky lifted an eyebrow.
Mag shook her head, and her lips started to quiver again. “Paul told me that the deputies put the dogs into bags with rocks and drown them.”
Shock pulsed through Becky’s veins. She didn’t think she could be any more angry with anyone ever than she was with Paul right now.
“That’s not true. No one’s going to hurt those dogs. They’ll make sure they’re cared for and then they’ll search for homes for them.”
“He said you’d lie about it. He said they had to drown them because they don’t have resources to care for so many puppies.” She drew in a shaky breath. “He said he was getting around to cleaning up the cages. That he would have made things right. That it was my fault the puppies would get drowned.”
Mag’s grief-stricken words bounced around Becky’s brain. “I can’t believe—” She couldn’t think straight. She wanted to run over to the Kings’ farm and give Paul a piece of her mind. How dare he strike terror into Mag’s heart with his lies? Was he that angry at her that he’d take it out on her sister?
Mag sat up and swiped at her cheeks. “You have to get the dogs back. I’ll never forgive myself if they kill them.”
“They’re not going to kill them.” A horrible realization swept over Becky. Her sister believed Paul over her own flesh and blood. Mag believed an Amish man instead of her own sister, an outsider.
The reality of the moment settled on Becky’s lungs and made it difficult to breathe.
She took a moment to compose herself, fearing if she spoke, her sister would hear the hurt in her voice. Her sister didn’t need any more guilt heaped on her already aching heart.
“Let’s talk to my friend Harrison. He knows the man who picked up the Kings’ dogs. He can assure you that they’ll care for the animals until they find new homes.” Becky stood and held out her hand to pull her sister to her feet.
“How do I know he’s not lying?” Mag stood without taking her hand.
“You’re going to have to trust me.”
* * *
<
br /> In front of Becky’s childhood home, Harrison waited by the truck. After a short time, he saw two shadows emerge from the barn. As they got closer, he noticed Becky had her arm around her crying sister.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“No, it’s not.” Becky’s words came out clipped and he could tell she was angry. Maybe even a little hurt. “Can you call Deputy Timothy Welsh? I need him to assure Mag that the dogs confiscated from the King property will be better cared for than when they were caged up next door.”
“Yes, sure.” Harrison’s gaze drifted to Mag and then back to Becky. As he was entering “Welsh” in his contacts on his smartphone, a crash made all three of them jump.
A tall, thin man with a long beard emerged from the house, the force of his exit slamming the screen door against the side of the house. He didn’t slow down for the woman scurrying behind him as he strode across the hard-packed earth toward them. A dent ringed his hair and forehead where his hat once sat. Harrison could easily assume this was Becky’s father.
“What’s going on here?” he demanded, his voice gruff, his jaw set for battle.
Mag refused to meet her father’s gaze. Her chin trembled. “I-I called Becky to see if she could get the Kings’ dogs back. I don’t want for them to be drowned.”
“Your sister has done enough.” Mr. Spoth pointed at Becky, then the truck. “Get out of here.”
The hurt in Becky’s eyes cut through Harrison. He understood what it was like to have a family ripped apart.
“Dat,” Becky said, twisting her hands in front of her, then letting them drop and squaring her shoulders. She returned her father’s unwavering gaze. “We’re going to make a phone call to assure Mag that the animals are okay. Then I’ll go.”
Mr. Spoth’s nostrils flared. “You had no right to interfere in Paul’s business. You chose to leave. Your life isn’t with us. Now go.”
“Sir,” Harrison said, daring to step forward. “Your daughter and I were worried about the well-being of the dogs. We had a responsibility to make sure they weren’t being mistreated.”
Mr. Spoth laughed harshly. “Responsibilities. My daughter knows nothing about responsibilities. We raised her to choose baptism and marriage within the Amish community. Then she shamed us by leaving in the middle of the night. She doesn’t care what goes on around here. You have been corrupted by outside influences.” Mr. Spoth blinked slowly. “We can’t have her infecting our other daughter with her dangerous attitudes. She shamed us. We don’t want anything to do with her unless she comes back to openly confess with a contrite heart.”
Becky audibly gasped as if she had been sucker punched, but she didn’t speak up to defend herself. Harrison assumed long-established father-daughter boundaries were at play here, not allowing her to find her words. To speak up against her father.
Familiar feelings crowded in on Harrison’s heart, making him share Becky’s shock, but not at her father’s outburst, but at his own actions, not unlike the harshness of her father. Harrison understood the feelings of hurt and shame that allowed a person to alienate someone they loved. He lived those emotions with his brother.
Harrison couldn’t stay silent.
“I’m not Amish, sir, but I can assure you I understand family and how important it is.”
Mr. Spoth turned his head, his strong profile outlined against the purples and oranges of the evening sky. His posture suggested he wanted nothing to do with Harrison, but he hadn’t walked away, either. Harrison’s gaze drifted to the porch where Mrs. Spoth stood very still, as if afraid to move.
“I know what it’s like to be disappointed by a family member. I know what it’s like to push them out of my life. To try to get them to see the error of their ways.” Harrison coughed to clear the emotion from his throat. “Unfortunately, I know what it’s like to lose that person forever. And I’m not talking because he moved across town. My brother is dead and I did nothing to help him before he reached that point.”
He felt Becky’s warm hand on his forearm, but he couldn’t meet her eyes. His heart was racing in his ears.
“I am sorry for your brother, but you are not Amish. You could never understand,” Mr. Spoth bit out.
“Perhaps,” Harrison conceded. “But you have your daughter right here. She’s made a decision you don’t care for, but she’s trying to help the daughter that is here. I suggest you accept the offer in whatever way doesn’t offend the rules you live by. But I imagine your God is the same God my mother taught me to pray to, and He’d want you to accept your daughter for who she is.”
“Perhaps you forgot your lessons, son. The fourth commandment says honor your father and mother. Our daughter shamed us.”
Becky squeezed Harrison’s arm. “Let’s go.” She turned toward her sister. “I promise you the dogs are okay. I’ll call the deputy who picked them up and check on them.” She walked around to the passenger side of the vehicle. “Trust me.”
“Good night,” Harrison said curtly, and climbed into the truck and slammed the door.
* * *
Becky slumped into the passenger seat of his truck and snapped on her seat belt. Her heart was racing so hard she thought it was going to jump out of her chest. She had never had a confrontation with her father. Not like that. Since she left, their relationship was nonexistent or if their paths accidentally crossed in town, he pretended he didn’t see her.
Sadness and anger threaded around her middle and made it difficult to breathe. She focused straight ahead, ignoring the hard stare of her father as Harrison did a wide U-turn in the driveway and pulled out onto the main road. She tried not to notice her mother in the shadows of the porch, slump-shouldered and silent. Always silent.
“I probably should have kept my mouth shut. I’m sure I didn’t help any,” Harrison said, his voice low and somber.
She shifted in her seat to face him, the shadow of a beard on his jaw. The urge to reach over and cup his chin and reassure him was strong, but she wasn’t that kind of person. She was a person who had grown up Amish, with conservative values, who was now struggling to fit into her new world. Yet feeling like she was doing a miserable job at that, too.
“Thank you for sticking up for me.”
“I didn’t mean to be disrespectful. It’s just...” He stared straight ahead, letting his words trail off. “It bothers me that he won’t acknowledge you when you’re right there.”
“It’s their way. We’ve talked about it. They hope I’ll come back.” She curled her fingers around the edge of the seat. “Are you really that angry with God?” It made her heart sad to hear the words he had chosen when confronting her dat.
Harrison’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he seemed to consider her question.
“I didn’t mean to pry. You don’t have to answer.”
“I suppose I can’t get past why God would let my brother die in such a horrible...” He shook his head.
She threaded her fingers together. “I’m sorry you’re hurting. Everyone has free will. To make choices. Your brother made some horrible decisions. You can’t punish yourself for the rest of your life because of his choices.”
“I thought I was doing the right thing by showing my brother how mad I was.” He stared straight ahead at the road, but he seemed lost in thought.
She reached across and touched his arm. “You can’t undo what’s already happened. If your brother was anything like you, I don’t think he’d want you to punish yourself for the rest of your life.”
“No.” The single word wasn’t convincing. “Do you ever regret leaving?”
Harrison’s question surprised her as much as the answer that sprang to her lips. “Lately I’ve wondered. The Amish are all about community. I felt the sheriff’s department was also a supportive community until I really needed that support. Then everyone disappeared. Even my friend, Anne, the sheriff’s administrati
ve assistant, has stopped returning my calls. Everyone I thought was a friend has disappeared.” She laughed, a mirthless sound. “But then again, others have shown friendship when they didn’t have to.” She squeezed his arm. “Thank you for that.”
“Of course.” Harrison cut her a quick gaze before returning his attention to the dark country road. “Would you ever consider going back?”
“To the Amish? No, I couldn’t be happy living in the Amish way. I know that for certain. Despite everything.” I’ve come too far. Yet, not far enough.
The reality of that pained her heart. She was like an orphan without a home. “I guess that means I have to work extra hard to clear my name.”
ELEVEN
The next day Becky was determined not to sit around feeling sorry for herself. Chewie was a big help with that. “Come on, let’s go outside. Get some air.”
She hooked his leash on his collar and he charged ahead toward the back door. He bounded down the steps and over to the tree line. A hint of unease whispered across the back of her neck. Would she ever feel safe again? Or would she forever be looking over her shoulder?
She said a silent prayer that the sheriff’s department would find the person who was harassing her. Maybe then she wouldn’t feel so jittery.
“Maybe it’s time to weed the flower beds,” Becky said to Chewie. “Get this place looking nice.” That was one thing she loved about being independent. She had her own house that she could maintain. And she could do the chores when and if she felt like it.
She bent down and wrapped the end of the dog’s leash around one of the posts on the railing. She tugged on it to make sure it was secure. She opened the small shed and found her gardening gloves. She tapped them together and little balls of dirt sprinkled to the ground. She studied the shelves until she located the long tool with a pronged end used for weed removal. “What else do I need?” She tucked a paper compost bag under her elbow, then closed over the shed door.
Standing directly on the other side was Deputy Ned Reich. Based on his expression, she wasn’t sure who was more surprised.