An approaching horse halted the meal. Hooves pounded the well-worn path that led to the Hostetler farm. Amos turned to see an Englisch rider approach. He slowed his mount as he passed the row of identical black buggies lining the wheat field beyond the house and came to a stop nearby.
His dark eyes scanned the table, and he spoke to the assembled without dismounting.
“I’m looking for a man by the name of Jonas Switzer. Can someone direct me to his place?”
Heads turned, Amos’s included, and gazes fixed on Jonas. Had he not been standing right next to the man, Amos would have missed the almost imperceptible intake of air. Within a second or two, the worry he’d seen flash in Jonas’s eyes evaporated, and he stepped toward the rider speaking in a calm voice.
“I am Jonas Switzer.”
A slim figure elbowed her way through the group of women on the far side of the table and stood wringing her hands, watching. Marta Switzer was not as adept as her son at masking her worry. The lines around her pursed mouth deepened to crevasses.
The Englischman dismounted and untied a strap on a bag hanging beside his saddle. “Got a letter for you. Came on the train last night. Charlie down at the post office asked me to bring it to you.”
He extracted an envelope from the bag and handed it to Jonas, who took it with a hesitant though steady hand. Mrs. Switzer hurried to stand at his side, her gaze fixed on the object her son was holding.
“That is not our Rebecca’s handwriting.” Dread weighed down her words. Whispers buzzed among the watching women.
Bishop Miller stepped in front of the rider. “Friend, we are about to enjoy a meal together. Will you be our guest?”
The man’s eyes lit up, his gaze fixing hungrily on the table. “That would be mighty welcome. Thank you.”
The bishop raised a hand and gestured toward a group of men standing nearby. “Make welcome our guest. Fill your plates. Enjoy the bounty God has placed before us.”
Not a man, woman, or child missed the unspoken meaning. Some moved away, eyes averted, to afford Jonas and Mrs. Switzer privacy.
Amos lagged behind the others while keeping a concerned eye on Jonas. Did this letter concern Rebecca? His pulse thrummed. He respected the Switzers and Jonas as he did few others in Apple Grove. No matter the trouble that befell a family in their Amish community, Jonas was among the first to lend aid. More than once he had arrived at Amos’s farm at first light during harvesttime, ready to help. His silent, ever-constant composure had served as a model for Amos more than once, though Amos devoutly hoped he would not be called upon to emulate the man’s widower status forever. Jonas felt no need to remarry; Amos longed for a companion. Someone to lie with at night, to talk about the day, and share concerns.
If anything had happened to Rebecca, Jonas would no doubt respond with the strength of his faith unshaken, but Amos sincerely hoped his friend would not have to suffer through such a trial. Every so often a young person left the safety of the Amish community, only to find they were unprepared for the ways of the Englisch. A prayer formed in his mind. Let no evil have befallen young Rebecca.
At the end of the line, Amos stepped closer to the table as the men in front of him moved down the row of food. To his right, Jonas broke the seal on the letter. Beside him, Mrs. Switzer craned her neck to read.
“She is safe.”
Jonas’s soft voice, though barely louder than a whisper, carried to those gathered in a huddle. Relief filled Amos when a chorus of “Gott aber sei Dank!” met the news.
Indeed, thanks be to God, he echoed silently.
In the next moment, Mrs. Switzer screeched, “Jail?”
She clamped a hand to her chest with more than her usual amount of drama and wavered on her feet.
Amos quickly stepped to her side in time to catch her in his arms when she collapsed.
Jail?
Their Rebecca was in jail?
“Aren’t you finished with that yet?”
Rebecca stabbed her needle with force into the ruffle, ignoring Colin’s question. The point sank through the fabric and into her already sore finger, and she hissed at the pain. She cast a resentful glance through the bars to the place where he leaned against the edge of his desk, arms crossed, watching her. His worrisome habit of staring at her with that scowl gathered on his handsome forehead had begun to grate on her nerves. He seemed to take pleasure in prodding her patience.
“Why do you ask? Are you eager for Sassy’s next fitting?”
She had the satisfaction of seeing a spot of color rise high on his neck, and she hid a smile as she repositioned her needle.
“I’m eager to have this dress business over and done with, and to get my jail back to normal.” His frown deepened. “Did you talk to the ladies?”
“Regarding what?” Why do I test him? I know what he’s asking about.
She had not spoken to the women about delaying the temperance protest until after he had left town, nor did she plan to do so. Keeping harmony in Lawrence was his job. Hers was to languish in jail for eighty-three more days. The needle paused. Why was he so eager to leave town?
“You are not being truthful, Miss Switzer. I thought your kind always tells the truth. The whole town knows Annie Diggs and her followers are raising money to cover your fine.”
Relief settled over her. He had not, then, heard rumors of the planned peaceful protest or news of their impending out of town guests.
“I am assured that donations are made daily, though not many have funds to spare.”
As of this morning, when Gladys Collins came by for a visit, the balance had risen to seventeen dollars. If Rebecca allowed herself to dwell on the declining frequency of donations, despair would overcome her. Instead, she asked Gladys to spread the word that she would gladly take in any sort of work she could perform during her confinement.
His lazy gaze studied her. “What happens when you get the bail money? Are you heading home—where you should be?”
She bit off a thread. “If my Jesse has not yet come, I shall go to him.”
“If he’s such a fine man, why hasn’t he come to your rescue and paid your fine?”
Now it was her turn to fight a rising flush. Truth was, she had considered writing Jesse and asking for his help, but to write asking for money after a four-year absence would destroy her plans for the touching reunion she envisioned. Her fervent prayer was that her fine would be paid well before he knew of her unfortunate arrest. Dwelling on any other possibility tied her stomach in queasy knots.
“My Jesse is an honorable man. If he knew of my situation, I haven’t the slightest doubt he would rush to my aid.”
A smile started at the corners of his mouth. “If he knew? I gather he isn’t expecting you?”
She tilted her nose in the air. “I do not need to explain my actions to you.”
“No need to get touchy.” He shoved away from the desk and returned to his chair.
“Why are you so interested in seeing me freed?” She would think that her situation meant little more than a nuisance to him.
“I’m not, but I want this place back to normal before the new sheriff gets here.”
Her hands paused. “Mrs. Evans told me you planned to leave. You must be pleased.”
“Yes, ma’am. Six more days, and I’ll head east.”
“You have employment elsewhere?”
“No.”
“New town?”
“No. New interest.”
“I’m listening.”
The silence lengthened, and at first he wouldn’t meet her gaze. Finally he said, “I plan to start an orphanage.”
She paused in her work to stare at him. “A what?”
“An orphanage. Not large. I’ll maybe take in five, six kids who need a home and a hand up in life. Farm a little. Grow some wheat.”
A new respect for him dawned. Not many men would be willing to care for children not their own. Only a loving man with a kind heart.
“Why do you wan
t to do this?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” He seemed to dismiss her question at first, but then he appeared to change his mind. “Comes from my past, I guess.” He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “When I was a boy, a schoolmate lost both his parents to consumption. I remember hearing my ma tell my pa late one night about how he and his sister had no place to go. Nobody to take them in. My pa said they could come live with us, and they did for a month or so until an uncle from New York showed up to get them.”
He fiddled with the inkhorn on his desk, taking the stopper out and putting it back in again.
“I’ll never forget how worried those kids were. No kid ought to have to worry about having a bed and food and somebody to watch after them.”
Rebecca’s own heart twisted. What if something happened to Emma and Luke? Would little Lucas worry about how to feed himself? Of course not, because he had a great-grandmother and grandfather and aunt who would give him a loving home. But not all children were so blessed.
Her thoughts turned to poor Amos Beiler and how he struggled to raise his little brood when his wife passed away at such a young age. Rearing a family was difficult with only one parent.
“But you are a single man,” she said. “Caring for children is hard work.”
Colin gave another shrug. “I’m single for the present. By the time I settle, I hope to find someone who shares my dream.”
She resumed her rocking and stitching as she spoke, much as she had seen Maummi do evenings at home.
“I think opening an orphanage is a most commendable goal, Sheriff Maddox.”
During the pause that followed, she looked over at him to note his countenance. To her surprise, a flush had risen from his neck into his cheeks. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”
“No. I think your dream is most worthy.”
He glanced at the door, and she wondered if he was worried that someone might overhear their confession.
“Eventually I might even form a little church.”
“An orphanage and a church. It seems you have given this much thought.”
“Some. If the Lord takes me in that direction, I’ll follow.”
“You seem a peaceful man. What made you choose to become a lawman?”
“The law chose me. I stepped up to take my grandpa’s place when he died. The job was supposed to be short term, but it’s going on two years now. Sheriffing isn’t in my blood—not like it was in Grandpa’s. I planned to hang around until Grandma passed, which she did last spring, and then be out of here.” He ran a hand through his thick hair. “But what I really want is to follow in my other grandpa’s footsteps. He led a church back home in Kentucky. And in six more days, that’s what I aim to do.”
Understanding dawned, and with it a sense of awe. “You are following the Lord to start a new district?”
He shook his head. “Not a district. A church. And I’ll paint the wood white as snow. It’ll be small to start out, with a pitched roof and a bell. And on top? A tall wooden cross.”
He had surely given the subject much thought, and his words painted Rebecca a well-defined picture. Amish church services were hosted every other week by a family in the district, though she had seen the buildings where the Englisch held their services. There were several in Hays City, and she’d even seen a few during her brief walk through the streets of Lawrence.
But the thing that captivated her imagination wasn’t his description of the building. It was his keenness for his vision.
“You will preach in this church?” she asked. He did not look in the least like Bishop Miller, who led the Amish back home in worship. Would the Lord allow such a young man, a man who carried a gun strapped to his side, to lead others in the holy rites?
“Oh, yes. I make no claim to be as sharp of tongue as your friend Annie, but when it comes to preaching, I can hold my own.” Though he answered her question, he seemed almost not to notice her, his gaze fixed on a faraway image that reflected in his eyes with a light that shone. “But that won’t be what keeps folks coming to my church. It’ll be the others, the families, the caring for each other and helping each other when the need arises. Just like my grandpa’s church back in Kentucky. And there’ll be the kids, the orphans. They’ll have a decent life, with good values and good examples all around them.”
A wave of homesickness washed over Rebecca. “Your dream will be a place like Apple Grove.”
Only not like Apple Grove. She had seen the stoic expressions on the faces of the men as the lots were drawn during church services back home. She watched Papa’s jaw, set resolute and firm, and could almost hear his prayer that the lot pass him by. To be chosen for a life of service in an Amish district meant a commitment of time and a burden of responsibility that few relished. To see Colin’s eyes alight with enthusiasm stirred a passion inside her. Imagine, hearing the call of the Almighty and answering that call with wholehearted devotion.
She realized he was watching her, his expectant gaze resting heavy on her. Then the door burst open, and Hal Lawson appeared.
“Trouble’s brewing.” The deputy’s words set Rebecca’s heart to pounding. “I just spotted Cyrus Hughes and Elijah Calhoun coming out of the Horseshoe Saloon.”
Though the names meant nothing to Rebecca, the grim expression on Colin’s face told her everything she needed to know.
As much as this man wanted to serve the Lord more than the law, it looked as though the good sheriff might not get his wish for six more peaceful days.
FIFTEEN
Yeah, they were in here all right.” The man behind the bar wasn’t as big or as burly as Ed, but he had a reputation for being every bit as tough. He’d have to be. Tucked onto a less affluent street on the northeastern edge of town, the Horseshoe Saloon didn’t attract a prosperous lot. A handful of tables, little more than wide planks on pole legs, crowded the room, and the bar was splintered and stained. Few of the bottles on the shelf bore labels.
“You’re sure it was Hughes and Calhoun?”
Colin laid wanted posters on the bar so the man could examine them more closely. Though not as notorious as Cleon Benton, these two had been pinpointed as accomplices in a series of stagecoach holdups down in Colorado a few months back. Grandpa Maddox had arrested them twice and told them the next time they rode into town he would haul their sorry hides to the jail and throw away the key.
“I’m sure it was them. Came in around two o’clock and sat at that table right there.” The man pointed to a table situated between the door and an ancient-looking potbelly stove.
“Did they happen to mention what they were doing here?”
The men would have to be brazen or half nuts to go against Bull Maddox’s warning to “get out and stay out” of Lawrence.
The bartender shook his head. “They didn’t say much of anything, Sheriff, even to each other. Downed three shots of whiskey each and then left. Looked trail weary, both of them, like they’d been rode hard and put away wet. I had the feeling they were just passing through.”
Colin frowned. “What makes you say that?”
“I watched them leave.” He jerked his head toward the window that took up half of the front wall. “Their horses were packed heavy and their saddlebags were full. They mounted up and took off that way.” He pointed east, where the town of Lawrence ended at the shores of the Kansas River.
“Let’s hope you’re right.” Colin snatched the wanted posters off the bar and walked out of the saloon. Hal waited on the weather-beaten porch, watching the street.
“They left town,” he told him as he mounted Gus.
“That’s where I spotted them, headed toward the river. Couldn’t have been more than ten, fifteen minutes ago.”
Colin set his jaw with frustration. Because he’d assigned himself jail duty this afternoon, Gus was at the stable. When Hal ran in with his big news, precious minutes had been lost going to the livery and saddling up. He nudged his horse with his knees and urged him into a gallop, Hal following behind.
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The few buildings to the east of the Horseshoe were spaced wide apart and small. One horse stood hitched in front of the auction house, and a small shanty beyond that looked to be deserted. There was no sign of movement either place. The road they followed became a trail that curved along the river and disappeared to the north behind a tree-covered bend.
“I’ll ride north. You take the east. Find John and the others and tell them who we’re looking for, but be quiet about it, Hal. We don’t want to start a panic. If we’re lucky, they’ve ridden on through and this is just an irritation.”
“What do we do if we find them?”
“Bring them in. I want to talk to them. There’s some reason they’re in the area, and it’s big enough to make them careless.”
“Sure thing, Colin.” Hal turned his horse and rode off like the wind.
The sheriff urged Gus into a gallop again. If the two men had ridden this direction, then Lawrence had not been their aim. Passing through or not, that made three wanted outlaws in his town in the past seven days, all of them gone before he’d even realized they were there.
His stomach churned as a river-scented breeze met his nose. Something was about to go down. Something big and ugly.
He rounded the bend, eyes scanning the landscape in front of him. The river continued north, cutting a swatch through a series of swells in the land. The trail rose, dipped, and then disappeared behind a thick tangle of river birch and white oak trees that ran all the way down to the bank. Not a single rider was in sight.
Colin slowed the horse’s pace. If Calhoun and Hughes had headed this way, then they were up ahead of him, heading east or north. In that case, they posed no threat to Lawrence. If they did, he’d be after them quicker than a spring jackrabbit.
With one last scan of the horizon, he turned around. Call it a hunch, but he’d bet good money that a search for these two men would prove as frustratingly useless as the one for Benton.
A Plain and Simple Heart (The Amish of Apple Grove) Page 13