Next she let herself into the chicken pen to make sure he was not cleaning there. The day’s eggs had been removed, but Rudy left no other sign of recent presence.
She ducked a head into an outbuilding where he kept a plow and a few other large farm tools, but it was dark and dusty.
“Rudy!” She called louder this time. “The letter came!”
She strode to the house, knocked sharply, and entered. Rudy had cleaned up since Saturday. Their visit had been brief. Rudy claimed a headache, making Abbie wonder if Little Abe and Rudy shared an illness and giving her hope that Mary Miller had not been avoiding her after all.
The kitchen wall had been scrubbed down since then, and the scrap bucket emptied—probably what the chickens were pecking at. The bed was tidied, and both chairs were tucked under the table at precise angles. The floor had been swept so recently that it bore not even a faint layer of dust. Abbie smiled. She appreciated the effort he was making, but she would make sure he understood that she did not mind doing the housework. After all, she had been keeping house for him for a long time already. Nevertheless, it was nice to know he would not start their marriage taking her for granted.
Abbie lit the stove and pulled the coffee canister off the shelf. She might as well have a cup while she waited for Rudy. If he was out in one of the fields, he would not be long, since he had no harvest. When the coffee was ready, she filled a mug, chose the chair facing the front door, and sipped at regular intervals.
The afternoon descended into early darkness. Every time Abbie thought she might as well go home and save the joyous news for tomorrow, she believed surely he would step through the door at any moment. The cows would need milking, for one thing. A man dedicated to building a dairy business would not put his cows at risk.
She lit a lamp and foraged in his food bins. When he came through the door, she would greet him with a meal. Before long she had a potpie of green beans and potatoes in the oven.
The darkness deepened, and the howl of a coyote pierced her solitude. Rudy would never leave the calf in the pasture exposed to the coyotes. Abbie pulled the lantern with the sturdy handle off a shelf and transferred flame. She had to get the cows in.
And milked.
She knew how to milk a cow, of course. And she was fairly certain she knew Rudy’s system for caring for the milk until he could distribute it in the morning or churn it into butter or cheese. The truth was, though, that her family had never had more than two cows, and her brothers had taken on the milking as soon as they were old enough. Even Levi had milking duties. While she assumed she would learn to help Rudy with the milk after they married, she never had before this.
Where was Rudy?
For the first time in this interminable afternoon, Abbie was frightened. She tightened her sweater around her midsection and carried the lantern out to the pasture. Wherever he had gone, Rudy had taken one horse, but riding without a wagon he would have nowhere to hang a light when he came home in the dark.
By the time Abbie finished the milking—which she was sure took her far longer than it would have any of her brothers, including Levi—and got all the animals settled in safety for the night, Abbie’s nascent fear had multiplied into terror for Rudy’s well-being. The meal in the oven dried out beyond consumption, and Abbie made another pot of coffee to drink while she sat upright at the table the entire night. She regretted now that she had let the daylight seep away while she sat cheerfully expecting Rudy to walk through the door when she could have been out riding through his fields as the first step in making sure he had not fallen ill or into harm.
She had milked the cows later than they were used to, and now she would rush the next interval by disturbing them before dawn. As soon as daylight broke, she intended to be looking for Rudy. She tended to all the animals and left them in the coop and the barn when she struck out on her search. Before the sun had transformed from pink threads to bright orange, Abbie was certain Rudy was not on the farm.
Her heart thudded against her chest wall as Abbie admitted she would have to seek help. She rode to the Millers’ and interrupted their breakfast.
“Have you seen Rudy?” she asked a surprised Albert at the door.
“Today?” he asked.
“Or yesterday.” Abbie’s brain muttered a scrambled prayer. Please, God, let Rudy be all right.
“What’s wrong, Abbie?”
“I’m not certain anything is wrong.” Yes, she was. “When did you see him last?”
Albert shrugged. “Last week.”
The weight in Abbie’s stomach threatened to explode. “If he drops by today, will you let him know I was looking for him?”
“Of course. But I don’t expect him.”
Abbie got back in her buggy and gauged the sky. It was still very early. She had several hours before Fin Wood would be watching out the window for her arrival. God, show me what to do.
She was going to have to ask Willem. It only made sense. Other than the Millers, Willem’s farm was the nearest. She took a deep breath, steeled herself, and drove the buggy back out to the main road.
The fluster of activity in his coop told her he was collecting eggs. Even Levi could do a more deft job of getting the eggs without upsetting the hens. Abbie pulled up beside the coop.
Willem had never seen Abbie so pale. Urgency coursed through him. “What’s wrong?”
“Have you seen Rudy?”
“I’m…keeping my distance,” Willem said. “I don’t want to complicate matters.”
“It’s not that.” Abbie twisted the reins around her hand. “I can’t find him. I waited for him all day and all night at his farm, and he never came home.”
“But the animals—”
“I did what I could. The animals are fine for now.” Abbie’s voice cracked. “I’ve been all over his farm, and over to the Millers’.”
“What about his deliveries?”
“I can’t think about that. Besides, I don’t know who all his customers are.”
“I meant, maybe he mentioned something to someone.”
“I wouldn’t know where to start, Willem. But something is very wrong.”
Willem set the bowl of eggs he was holding on the ground and brushed his hands against his trousers. “What about the English authorities?”
Her eyes clouded. “So you agree something is wrong.”
He wanted to reach up to the bench where she sat to stroke her cheek and reassure her. Instead, he slipped his fingers in the horse’s bridle. “You’re not a hysterical woman, Abbie. If you feel something is wrong, then something is wrong.”
“What can the English authorities do?”
“Make inquiries. Try to determine what he has been doing the last couple of days. If you could find Rudy’s account books, they could start with his dairy customers.”
He saw the tremble in her nod.
“I think I know where to look,” she said.
“Come inside and wash your face,” he said. Pin up your hair. We’ll find it and then go into Limon together.”
Abbie wanted to know the minute Rudy returned. He would return. She would not allow herself to consider another answer to his disappearance.
The police officer in Limon, Mr. Shelton, was too calm. He took down the information Abbie provided, including the list of Rudy’s dairy customers, and promised he would let her know when he had some information.
How long would it take? she wanted to know. What did he plan to do? Who was he going to talk to? How soon would he start? She explained where she lived, where Rudy lived, where she worked. Would he promise to send a man out to find her as soon as they knew anything at all? The most the officer did was arch an eyebrow and write a few more words on his form.
Willem had to take her by the elbow and guide her out of the police station before she heard any satisfying answers. Somehow she managed her hours with Fin, though he expressed exasperation at her lack of progress in understanding the rules of chess. Because she had ridden in with W
illem that morning, she had to wait for him to return from the far reaches of the ranch. She said good-bye to Fin when it was time for his afternoon rest, telling herself she would go outside and walk off her nervous energy. In the end, she stayed near the house. If she roamed the ranch, how would an English officer know where to find her?
Willem drove her home, though the buggy was hers.
“I want to wait at Rudy’s,” she said when Willem started to turn onto the Weaver land. “If…when he comes home, that’s where he will come.”
Willem redirected the horse. “I’ll do the milking.”
“I can manage.”
“But you don’t have to.”
While Abbie worked alongside Willem, he was three times as fast at every task.
“In the morning,” he said as they finished the last cow, “we’ll have to find some use for some of the excess milk or pour it out.”
“Seems a shame to waste it,” she said.
“We both have jobs,” he reminded her. “Neither of us has time to try to find Rudy’s customers or churn butter. We should focus on keeping the cows producing.”
“You’re right.” Whatever had happened to Rudy, he deserved to come home to healthy animals.
“I’ll be back in the morning.”
“You don’t have to do that. I’ll manage.” Abbie rinsed her hands in the trough outside the barn and turned to his expectant face.
He met her gaze and moistened his lips. “The turn in your relationship with Rudy surprised me. I’ll admit that. But it doesn’t mean I don’t care about him. Or you.”
She swallowed without speaking.
“I’ll ride one of Rudy’s horses home for the night and be back in the morning in time to milk.”
“Let’s play chess again.” Fin made a face at Abbie the next morning. “You don’t seem to be learning the rules very well.”
She forced a smile. How could she explain to a housebound eight-year-old that two sleepless nights and a missing fiancé meant she had no mental energy for absorbing the rules of chess?
“We should read today,” she said. “Your mother is particularly concerned that you not fall behind in school.” Fin’s reading had improved enough that he might not notice she was not listening carefully.
“I don’t want to do math,” he said.
“We won’t today.” The last thing Abbie’s brain wanted to do were the multiplication tables. “Your mother suggested that we read Around the World in Eighty Days. It might be an interesting way to learn some geography.”
Fin turned around in a dramatic fashion. “I know where the book is.”
They read for most of the morning in the library. When Abbie felt the boy’s efforts lagging, she took the book from him and tried to inject some enthusiasm into the task. She had never read the book before, either. It was far too fanciful for an Amish education.
It was almost lunchtime when Louise interrupted them. Abbie put a finger under the line she had been reading and looked up.
“We have a visitor,” Louise said. “He said he is here for you.”
Rudy! Abbie snapped the book closed and stood up.
“I’ve put him in the sitting room so you can have some privacy.” Louise gestured and Abbie paced across the hall.
“Mr. Shelton,” she said when she saw the officer who had taken her report about Rudy’s disappearance.
He stood in a casual stance with his hat in one hand, resting on his leg. “We have some information.”
Abbie trembled. “Have you found Rudy? Is he all right?”
“As far as we know he is quite well.”
She exhaled relief.
“Apparently he decided to take a trip.”
“A trip?”
“It was quite a simple matter, actually,” Mr. Shelton said. “This is a railroad town, after all. People come and go all the time.”
“Rudy hasn’t left the area since he arrived four years ago. He hasn’t even been to Colorado Springs or Denver.”
“The railroads keep records, you know, and the ticket masters have developed excellent memories. Since there are so few Amish men around here, it wasn’t a difficult inquiry.”
“What are you saying, Mr. Shelton?” Abbie crossed and uncrossed her arms.
“We traced him to a Union Pacific passenger train that left on Tuesday morning. Apparently he had a voucher from some time ago and decided to cash it in for a ticket.”
“But his farm! He would never go off without making sure his animals were cared for.”
“Have they been cared for?”
“Well, yes. Mr. Peters and I have been looking after them.”
“Then it seems Mr. Stutzman knew what he was doing.” Mr. Shelton reached for a slip of paper. “And it seems he sold the horse he rode into town to a railroad employee, tying up loose ends.”
Abbie closed her eyes to calm her breath. “We are engaged to be married. Something must have precipitated his sudden departure.”
“I cannot speak to that, Miss Weaver. That is between the two of you. We consider this a closed matter because there seems to be no indication of foul play.”
“But where did he go? Can you at least tell me that?”
“It was an easterly train. His ticket would take him as far as western Missouri, but of course he could have gotten off anywhere.”
“Can’t you find out?”
“It’s not a police matter, Miss Weaver.”
The mare resisted Abbie’s urge for speed, but she pestered the animal until it responded to commands with sufficient conviction.
Gone.
Rudy was gone. Abbie had refused to believe the officer’s conclusion for two distracted hours until she could extricate herself from Fin’s attention and barrel toward Rudy’s farm. If he was really gone, he could have no objection to her looking through every stack of papers, every shabby drawer, every drooping shelf for the truth. She remembered now seeing the crimped corner of the voucher one day while she was cleaning. That was months ago, and in all this time Rudy had never again spoken of leaving. Now she was supposed to believe that he had after all.
Leaving the horse in the yard, Abbie stomped past the chickens and yanked open the door. With hands on her hips, she narrowed her eyes and looked around for the clue she had missed. Rudy had left the place tidy, but Abbie had been camped out there for two days and left evidence of her presence. She began by gathering the odds and ends of her belongings into a compact pile and stacking them on one chair next to the front door. A shawl, a soiled apron, the schedule she had scratched out for taking care of the farm chores. Then she moved the coffeepot from the table to the back of the stove and shifted the pots and dishes she had left drying beside the sink to the shelves above it. A tattered quilt went back to the foot of Rudy’s bed.
Now the cabin was as he had left it.
And Abbie realized what was wrong. The pile of papers Rudy always left on the table, on the end that doubled as his desk, was gone. The notes about milk production, the quantity of seed he hoped to plant in the spring, the record of how he had weaned the calf. Abbie had supposed Rudy cleaned up to please her. Now she realized he cleaned up to say good-bye.
She hunted for the stack. If he truly was abandoning the farm, he would have no reason to take it, but the papers might give some clue of his intent. Abbie stood and stared at the three narrow drawers that housed Rudy’s meager wardrobe. As soon as she tugged on the bottom drawer, she knew it gave easily because it was empty. The middle one was as well.
The top drawer yielded the papers, with a letter tied closed in twine laid on top of them. Shaking, she pulled the twine away and unfolded the letter.
Dearest Abbie,
First, I want you to know that my affection for you is more profound than I imagined possible. The greatest joy of my life is the moment you agreed to wed.
Second, I want you to know the depth of my admiration for your commitment to the success of the Elbert County settlement. You could have taken the
easy road and gone east with your family, but your determination is relentless.
And now for two truths. I was utterly surprised when you accepted my proposal. For so long I thought it was the only thing that could tie me to this land. I have given my farm the best effort I could, and quite possibly, given time, I would have succeeded.
But I am not your Willem. Success would not be enough. I need the church as much as you do, and I am afraid I don’t haveyour patience or optimism. So I have used my train ticket after all. I could not bear to ask you to come with me. I was too afraid you would say no and I would have to face the truth that your acceptance of my proposal was not based on mutual affection after all. I could not bear to know that for certain.
I ask you not to look for me. I am not sure where I will go, but I know there will be a robust Amish congregation wherever I end up. On a separate page, I am leaving instructions about the animals.
Fondly,
Rudy Stutzman
The knock on the door startled her, and for a flash she wanted it to be Rudy.
But of course he would not knock on his own door.
Willem stepped into the cabin. “Mrs. Wood said you didn’t look well when you left today.”
Abbie handed him the papers and stumbled to a chair. Willem scanned the letter before sliding it under the document below.
“He’s left you the livestock,” Willem said.
Abbie exhaled and spoke hoarsely. “What do I want with dairy cows when I have been abandoned by two men?”
“I’m here,” he said quietly.
“I always thought you and Rudy were different as night and day.” She stared out the front window. “Now I see I was wrong. Neither one of you could choose the life that included me.”
Willem twisted the barbed wire in place and snipped the excess off one end. Johnny, the ranch hand Melton Wood had sent out to help him was a young man, probably not any older than Reuben Weaver. But if he had grown up nearby, he might know the answer to Willem’s question.
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