Colin had scoffed at the waitress and informed her that prisoners did not order their meals like paying customers. Her answering glower had set him back on his heels. It seemed that every woman in this town had decided to draw a line between the law and Rebecca, and they had united in her behalf. As far as he could tell, she hadn’t done a single thing to encourage the behavior. She’d been in that cell all day. Unless you would call her declaration about being part of their organization now threatening.
It’s Annie Diggs. And Mrs. Evans causing the trouble.
Problem was he had more to worry about than the women. Namely, Cleon Benton.
“Please tell her I can’t think of anything, but I will be thankful for whatever she makes.”
He glanced up to see a fretful frown on her face.
“I am unaccustomed to being served. If I could, I would gladly lend a hand.”
“Well, you can’t. You’re in jail.”
“You need not remind me. I know where I am.”
“Do you know what kind of trouble you’re in?” He wondered. She might be taking this mildly, but did she know exactly how long ninety days in a tight cell was?
“The Lord will protect me.”
“He’d better, because in less than two weeks I’m not going to be around to help fight your battles.”
She carefully drew thread through her cloth. “I wasn’t aware you were fighting my battles.”
Colin bit his tongue. What was the matter with him, snapping at a woman like that? This woman had him feeling sorry for her one minute and mad enough to explode the next. He made a show of unbuckling his gun belt and laying his pistol on the surface of his desk, ready to pick up at a moment’s notice.
“Did you find the outlaw with whiskers?” she asked in a conversational tone.
His glance slid to the wall, where the creased wanted poster hung once again. “No. Didn’t see a single sign of him.”
“Do you believe I saw him?”
“Others saw him too.”
“Really? Who?”
“Will, the railroad agent. Miz Sawyer at the boardinghouse.”
“Then I wasn’t mistaken.”
“Maybe a man who resembled Benton got off that train with you.”
“Perhaps, or maybe he was merely traveling through and he’s left town.”
Colin shook his head. “It’s possible. Until then, I’m praying—” He snapped his mouth shut. He’d been about to say I’m praying he holds off whatever he’s planning for another thirteen days.
Rebecca glanced up. “You are praying?” she prompted.
He amended his comment. “I’m praying nobody gets hurt.”
The smile that curved her lips transformed her features. Colin was struck anew with how lovely she was.
“I will pray that too.”
She bent to her stitching. Colin studied her for a moment longer, though why he should be surprised at her statement he didn’t know. Raised in an Amish family, of course she prayed. Clearing his throat, he asked, “What are you working on?”
“I’m mending a seam.” She paused in her work and spread out the fabric bunched in her lap to reveal a lady’s dress. “Mrs. Evans suggested that I put my time to good use.” She lifted a charming grin toward him. “Maummi despairs of my cooking skills, but I am most handy with a needle and thread.”
“Maummi?”
“My grandmother. She takes care of Papa and me.”
The door opened, and Colin turned and crossed the space between him and his gun in two steps. His hand dropped away from the weapon when he spied Mrs. Evans and a small boy.
“Oh, there you are, Sheriff. I was watching for you through my upstairs window, but I didn’t see you return.”
The lady entered the room and thrust her burden into his hands. Colin found himself holding a washbasin and pitcher. She reached into a pouch that hung from her wrist and extracted a coin.
“There you go, young man. Thank you for helping an old lady.”
The curly headed boy pocketed the coin with a grin and handed her a bulging tapestry bag. She shut the door behind him and then brushed past Colin. Voluminous skirts swished as she crossed to his desk, opened a drawer, and extracted the ring holding the keys to the cells.
Colin found his voice. “Ma’am, what are you doing?”
She gave him a surprised look on her way to Rebecca’s cell. “I’m settling in for the night.” The lock turned with a click, and she entered to place her bag on one of the bunks.
“What? No.” He shook his head. “That’s where I draw the line. Only prisoners are allowed to stay overnight in the jail.”
Without a pause, Mrs. Evans bustled over to him and took the washbasin out of his hands.
“Oh? And where are you going to sleep, Sheriff Maddox?”
“In there, where I always do.” He pointed through the open doorway beside the third cell.
Gray eyebrows arched high on the wrinkled forehead. “Not thirty feet away from a young, single woman? Alone all night without a chaperone? I think not.”
Search though he might, Colin could not come up with an acceptable argument. He watched her enter the cell, place the basin on the small table, and then return to swing the door shut behind her. The smile she awarded him through the bars held the smugness of one who knew she’d had the last word. She reached out and hooked the keys around a peg near the cell.
“Pleasant dreams, Sheriff.”
With a flick of her wrist, she unlatched the colorful curtain and pulled it closed.
Dear Papa and Maummi,
I am writing to assure you that I arrived safely in Lawrence. I have found a very nice room at a price I can afford, and I am using my time in useful industry doing mending for a milliner.
My circumstances have altered, and I will be gone several weeks longer than expected. Do not worry, for I am fine. As I explained in the letter I left, my absence is only temporary. When my rumspringa ends, my intention is to come home to Apple Grove.
Rebecca
She read the letter out loud one last time while the ink dried. Though nothing would soothe her family’s concern for her, the careful wording should serve to placate them for the time being. Guilt nabbed her when her gaze fell on the phrase a very nice room at a price I can afford. She glanced at her surroundings. True, every word. Her cell had become quite nice, thanks to Mrs. Evans and the ladies of Lawrence, and because it was free, she could afford it.
The fact that she could afford nothing at all need not be stated.
Mrs. Evans, comfortable in her nightdress and frill-covered sleeping cap, peered at the paper.
“Are you certain you shouldn’t tell them of your circumstances, child? If you were my daughter or granddaughter, I would want to know the truth.”
The thought of Papa’s face heavy with sadness, and Maummi’s silent fretting, brought the sting of tears to her eyes. Sniffing, she folded the letter.
“No. It is better this way.”
She folded the letter and wrote Papa’s name and Apple Grove, Kansas, in careful script on the front. When she had applied a few drops of wax to seal it, she handed it to the elderly woman, who secreted it in her bag.
“I will take it to the post office in the morning,” she promised.
When the light had been doused and they were both cozy in their bunks beneath the soft coverings, Rebecca lay staring into the darkness. In four days’ time, Alvin Diggs would leave to attend to his business in the south. That would take several days, Mrs. Diggs had explained, and then he would return by way of Cider Gulch.
After that I will see my one true love.
The words she had rehearsed, the ones expressing her love and her hopes that they might share a peaceful life together in Apple Grove, repeated in her mind. But when she closed her eyes, the face she had dreamed of for four years refused to materialize. Instead, all she could see was the half-mocking smile of Lawrence’s dark-haired sheriff.
THIRTEEN
The door
burst open, and Mrs. Diggs’ voice preceded her into the jailhouse. “My dear, the news is thrilling!”
She entered waving a piece of paper above her head and then caught sight of the sheriff seated behind his desk. Her mouth snapped shut.
Rebecca looked up from the half-finished ruffled collar in her lap. Her spirits rose at the excitement apparent on Mrs. Diggs’ face. Had the ladies raised the entire one hundred dollars? Not a moment too soon! Though her jail cell was comfortable, after four days confined here she had grown thoroughly tired of these walls.
Mrs. Diggs tilted her head back and looked down her nose at Colin. “I had no idea you would be here, Sheriff.”
“No? I do work here, though lately my job consists of nothing but babysitting the town women.”
Rebecca completed the stitch she had begun. It was true that the ladies of the movement had formed a constant stream into the jail. They were determined to bolster her spirits, and their chatty visits relieved the tedium of long days.
Colin leaned his chair back against the wall and asked, “What’s the thrilling news?”
“It’s not for you,” Annie replied haughtily. “I would like to visit with Rebecca. Privately, if you please.”
The chair’s front legs slammed against the floor. “Of course you would. Don’t they all?”
Scowling, he snatched the keys from the corner of the desk. Rebecca secured her needle in the folds of a ruffle and set her project aside with a private smile. He’d complained yesterday that it was no use storing them out of sight in a drawer when everyone in town knew where they were.
When he’d swung the cell door open, he left the keys dangling from the lock.
“I’ll be outside if you need anything.”
Rebecca smothered a giggle at the glare he sent her way. With a savage gesture, he jerked his hat off the hook on the wall, set it on his head, and left through the door, closing it behind him.
The moment he was out of sight, Mrs. Diggs rushed into the cell, waving her piece of paper. “My dear, the news is so thrilling I can barely contain myself!”
Rebecca eyed the paper with growing excitement. “Is it a large donation? Do we have the full amount of my fine yet?”
“No, nothing like that.” The paper fluttered in the air again. “Even better!”
Rebecca’s shoulders slumped as her enthusiasm flagged. What could be better than raising a hundred dollars so she could be free?
Mrs. Diggs crossed the short space between them and gathered her into a quick embrace. When she pulled back, her face shone with a zeal Rebecca had rarely seen.
“I’ve had word from back East.” Annie lowered her voice to a whisper, lips trembling with the news she could scarcely contain. “Our message has been received, and they are coming!”
Rebecca waited, but no revelation was forthcoming. “Who is coming?”
“Frances Willard and Anna Howard Shaw!” Mrs. Diggs’ feet near danced a jig where she stood. “They are coming here, to Lawrence, to march arm-in-arm with us in our demonstration.”
The names meant nothing to Rebecca. She maintained a tentative smile in the face of the other woman’s glee, though how the arrival of two strangers was more exciting than her release, she could not imagine.
“They are movement leaders,” Mrs. Diggs explained. “Their work for the sake of temperance has been tireless. When I wrote to them of your circumstances and our plans, they agreed that this opportunity is one that will make great strides toward our goal.”
As far as Rebecca was concerned, unless they came bearing one hundred dollars to free her, their participation was at best mildly encouraging. Still, she tried to assume an appropriately enthusiastic expression.
“Don’t you see?” Mrs. Diggs gazed at the missive with something akin to awe. “Their support will further our cause one more step. Why, when the ladies of the movement learn of their impending arrival, they will flock to our side.”
Apparently, Rebecca failed to exhibit the joy expected.
“And,” Mrs. Diggs continued pointedly, “if ladies flock to our side, they will certainly donate to our cause. Your cause, my dear.”
This sounded much more hopeful
“How much have we raised?” Rebecca asked.
“Oh, I don’t have an exact figure before me.” The woman waved her hand in a vague gesture. “I made a plea at church yesterday, which I expect will result in an influx of donations.”
“But how much have we raised so far?” Rebecca pressed.
Mrs. Diggs did not meet her gaze. “Somewhere in the area of fifteen dollars.”
The dismal figure hung like a specter in the air between them. Rebecca stepped back and sank into her rocking chair. Apparently, all the ladies who had visited in the past four days had barely managed to scrape together a dollar apiece.
“I shall never get out of jail.” Her voice ended on a mournful tone.
“Nonsense.” Mrs. Diggs swooped across the floor to engulf her with another brief hug. “Don’t lose heart. With support from such giants of the cause as these, we will soon be swept away in a flood of donations.”
Never before had Rebecca’s thoughts hovered so desperately around money. Why should they, when Papa’s labor kept food on the table and a roof over their heads? Now it seemed she could think of little else. To make matters worse, her hands were tied. Confined as she was, there was nothing she could do to save herself.
“I must go,” Mrs. Diggs announced. “They shall arrive on the twenty-fourth, which is only nine days from now. Oh, there is so much to do!” She rushed out of the cell and toward the door.
“Wait!” Rebecca leaped to her feet and started after her. She came to a halt at the boundaries of her cell. “What of your husband’s errand in the south?”
The woman didn’t turn when she reached the door but answered over her shoulder when she jerked it open. “Patience, my dear. He left this morning. There will be news from your beau soon.”
Battling melancholy, Rebecca sank into her chair again and folded her hands in her lap. Dependent as she was on Mrs. Diggs’ assistance, she couldn’t shake the desolation that settled over her. Five days ago she’d set out from Apple Grove full of enthusiasm. But nothing had turned out as she planned. Surely no Amish girl ever had such a miserable rumspringa.
The door opened and Colin returned. She didn’t look up from her contemplation of her hands but was aware that he paced in front of his desk.
“Rebecca, I want to talk to you.”
She looked up at the note of resolve in his voice.
“Something’s going on. I know it. You know it. Every woman in this town knows it. Will you tell me what it is?” He paused and then added grudgingly, “Please?”
She almost answered his plea. Why not? What good was it doing her to keep news of the movement’s planned peaceful demonstration from him? And yet Annie Diggs obviously wanted the protest to remain a secret. Now more than ever, with the promised presence of such powerful leaders.
And regardless of ineffectual efforts thus far, who was working to free Rebecca from her jail sentence and to bring about her reunion with Jesse?
Mrs. Diggs and her faithful followers.
Certainly not Colin Maddox, who put her here in the first place.
She shook her head. “I am sorry, Sheriff. I don’t know what you are asking.”
An untruth, but one that can’t be helped.
A painful lump of tears formed in her throat, and she swallowed against them. First, she failed to control her temper, and now lies fell from her tongue. Perhaps her Amish upbringing wasn’t as ingrained as she thought.
Tears blurred her vision, and she turned to the wall so Colin could not see.
“I don’t believe you. What’s going on here, Rebecca? Are those women planning a big demonstration?”
“I’m sorry, but I have a dreadful headache.” She unlatched the strip of cloth holding back the curtain and a wall of fabric dropped into place.
Still, h
is voice penetrated the thin material. “When? Is there any way you can hold them off for a couple of weeks?”
She closed her eyes.
“Two weeks, Rebecca. That’s all I ask. You have some say with them. They’ve taken to you. Make them cool their heels for two more weeks. In return, I’ll talk to Tank again. I will try to get him to reduce the sentence.”
She heard footfalls as he returned to his desk.
“That’s what’s bothering me. Benton’s not the reason I have this strange feeling that something is about to happen.” The chair squeaked.
“Those women are stirring up more trouble. That’s what it is.”
“Child, I have a job for you.” Mrs. Evans made her announcement on Tuesday morning.
Seated behind the sheriff’s desk, Deputy Callahan looked up from his perusal of a newspaper.
“Mornin’, Miz Evans.”
“Good morning, John. How’s Bertha?”
“Fine, thanks. She’s almost recovered from the birthin’, and the boy is a strong one.” His chest inflated and a proud grin lit his face.
“Give her my regards,” Mrs. Evans said as she let herself into the cell using the key.
Rebecca set her needle down and massaged her fingertips. The constant stitching helped to pass the time, but her fingers were unaccustomed to such abuse. The skin on her thumb and forefinger was beginning to callous. Maummi would definitely approve.
Mrs. Evans had a pair of brightly colored dresses draped over her arm. Rebecca stifled a sigh. The amount of mending she had done for her benefactress would meet the needs of an entire Amish community for months. But the elderly woman generously contributed toward Rebecca’s fine for every piece. Pennies, but every coin counted. And at least the task gave Rebecca a way to contribute toward her release rather than merely relying on the charity of others.
“Thank you. Put them there.” She gestured toward a basket in the corner, which held an apron she suspected Mrs. Evans had rescued from a ragbag simply to give Rebecca a task to occupy her time.
A Plain and Simple Heart (The Amish of Apple Grove) Page 11