A Plain and Simple Heart (The Amish of Apple Grove)

by Virginia Smith

  No ideas came to mind. Best clear the street, though, in case the man bolted.

  He dismounted in front of the building next door, well away from the restaurant’s front window, and waved to an approaching trio of men.

  “Stay clear,” he called in a loud whisper, and pointed toward a couple sauntering down the other side of the street. “Get those folks out of here.”

  Excitement dawned on the men’s faces. “Something going on, Sheriff?”

  One of the men cast a wide-eyed stare at Pa Parker’s. “You gonna have a shoot-out?”

  “I hope not.” Colin motioned for them to move in the opposite direction. “Clear the street.”

  The men ran, looking back over their shoulders. Momentarily they paused and engaged in a hurried conversation with the man and woman, who, instead of leaving, turned expectant gazes his way. He made a shooing motion in their direction and then focused his attention on the restaurant.

  John had his back pressed against the building on the far side, watching for the sign to move in.

  Stomach muscles tight, Colin unstrapped his holster strap and lifted his weapon a little to ensure a quick draw, should that become necessary.

  Lord, if this can be done peacefully, I sure would appreciate it.

  He glanced back at the people across the street and saw that their number had swelled to almost a dozen. Groaning, he added a postscript to his prayer.

  And don’t let anybody get hurt.

  With a jerk of his head toward the rear, he silently instructed John to cover the back entrance. The deputy nodded and disappeared. Colin headed for the porch. When his boot touched the bottom step, the door opened. He ducked, his hand grasping his pistol grip.

  A man and woman exited the building. Relieved, he released his hand and the pistol slid back into place in its holster.

  “’Evening, Miz Thompson, Mr. Thompson.” He brushed his hat brim in greeting as the woman placed her hand on her husband’s arm.

  “Going in for a bite to eat, Maddox?” the man asked as they approached the stairs.

  Colin stepped aside to let them pass. “I might just do that.”

  “Enjoy your supper.”

  He started up the stairs again when Helen Thompson’s loud voice called after him. “Goodnight, Sheriff.”

  Wincing, he continued onto the porch. So much for a surprise entrance. He didn’t bother to walk softly across the wood. With his hand hovering near his weapon, he caught the door before it closed and entered the restaurant. The smell of frying onions and bacon filled the room. He scanned the customers. Two women were at a table near the front door and five, no, six men gathered around the others.

  At a table in the far corner, the one closest to the rear entrance, a man sat with his back against the wall. John had described him as mean looking, and at the moment he had a scowl fixed on Colin that would boil ice. His hat sat low on his forehead, and the tails of his long coat swept the floor on either side of his chair. His gaze pierced, holding Colin’s with a rigid grip, most likely hoping to mask the fact that his right hand was heading slowly toward his side. The muscles in Colin’s hand twitched.

  “Hold it right there, Kaspar. Put your hands on the table where I can see them.”

  All sound in the room ceased as Kaspar lifted his arms slowly and spread his palms on either side of a metal plate holding a half-eaten slab of meat.

  “My name ain’t Kaspar. It’s Lewis. Gerald Lewis.”

  Colin moved calmly across the room, his eyes never leaving Kaspar’s face. The resemblance to the poster hanging on the jailhouse wall was unmistakable. “I say you’re Marvin Kaspar, and you’re wanted for cattle rustling, horse thieving, and killing a man in cold blood in Waco.”

  Chairs scraped the wooden floor as customers rose from their tables and headed for the exit. Colin heard the door close behind him, and then an eerie silence. The only sound was the sizzle of a griddle from beyond the doorway that led to the kitchen on Kaspar’s right. Colin’s approach took him almost to the outlaw’s table, and he saw the man’s eyes flicker sideways, toward the open doorway.

  “Don’t try it,” Colin said. “Let’s do this peacefully.”

  John stepped into view from the kitchen, his pistol in his hand. At the sight of the deputy’s gun pointed in his direction, Kaspar’s tense muscles relaxed. He leaned his head back against the wall, his glittering gaze fixed on Colin.

  “Like I said, you got the wrong man.”

  “I have a poster on my wall that says differently. Stand up.”

  Kaspar shoved his chair back and stood up.

  “Now, drop your gun belt. Slowly.”

  When the weapons hit the floor, Colin gestured for John to get them. With his gun trained on the outlaw, the deputy extended the toe of his boot and scooted the belt out of reach.

  Now that Kaspar was unarmed, Colin’s hand relaxed. He nodded toward the chair.

  “Sit down. Finish your steak.”

  Though Kaspar lowered himself back into the chair, he made no move toward his plate. Colin pulled a chair from the next table over, turned it around, and straddled it, facing the man.

  “Now, suppose you tell me what brings you to Lawrence.”

  The man’s lips didn’t so much move as harden. “Just passing through. Thought I’d get some supper.”

  A distinct whistle sounded from not far off, the signal that the train was about to pull out.

  “I think you just missed your train.” Colin glanced at the half-eaten slab of meat. A man who intended to continue his journey by train wouldn’t cut it this close. “’Course, doesn’t look to me like you were planning to get back on it anyway.” When the comment brought no reaction, he took a different tack. “Where are you headed?”

  “East.”

  The contempt in the outlaw’s beady eyes was starting to test Colin’s patience.

  “Meeting up with friends back there, were you? Planning a little reunion?”

  A muscle in Kaspar’s cheek twitched, and Colin hid a triumphant smile. The man knew something about the appearance of desperados in town lately, and he would get it out of him if it took all night.

  “Come on. On your feet.” He rose and slid the chair back beneath the table.

  “Where we going?”

  “To jail.” He put a hand beneath Kaspar’s arm and hauled him up.

  “But I ain’t done nothing! You can’t throw me in jail for having supper.”

  “We’ll send a message to the Texas marshals and see what they have to say about you.”

  Colin nudged him toward the door. A row of eager faces outside lined the window to peer in. No doubt word of the evening’s entertainment would spread. He’d better send a message over to the mayor and Tank to let them know he had located trouble.

  When he opened the door, the man’s chilly calm evaporated, and Kaspar began to struggle. Colin tightened the grip on his arm. A string of foul threats filled the night air as the man tried unsuccessfully to jerk away. From somewhere off to the side, a woman gasped at the offensive words that spewed from his mouth.

  From behind, John gave Kaspar’s back a shove. “Watch your language! Ladies are present.”

  There were those, all right, and not only here at the restaurant. An image rose in his mind. Rebecca, stubbornly lowering herself into her rocking chair and announcing her intention to refuse the money her Amish friend brought.

  We’ll see about that.

  Whatever it took, he would have his jail back tonight.

  Colin shoved Kaspar inside the jailhouse, with John coming in behind them.

  The Amish man in his funny round hat, baggy black trousers, and pocketless coat stood in the center of the floor, exactly in the position he had been in when the sheriff left.

  Inside her cell, Rebecca sat unmoving in her chair, the rockers still, staring through the bars at her visitor, her feet primly peeking out from beneath her shapeless black dress. Both wore bland expressions.

  They look like a
matched set.

  The thought, for some reason, disturbed him. What was their relationship that this man, this Amos Beiler, would come after her? Had she jilted him by running off to chase another man?

  “Wouldja look at that?” Kaspar slowed to gawk at the brightly decorated cell and its occupant. He threw back his head, and biting, harsh laughter filled the room. “This here ain’t a jail! Why, it’s prettier than a fancy hotel.”

  Colin propelled the man forward. “That’s right, and I saved the best room in the house for you.” He shoved him into the empty cell farthest from Rebecca’s and slammed the door.

  Kaspar’s glare circled the bare room. “Hey, don’t I get a pretty blanket and a rocking chair too?” His snide taunt ended in a snicker.

  “The minute you put on a skirt and start riding sidesaddle.” Behind him, John guffawed at his own lame humor.

  Colin sent a disapproving frown in his deputy’s direction and then pointed a finger at Kaspar.

  “Sit down and shut up. I’ll get to you in a minute.” He strode to stand in front of Rebecca’s cell. “I thought I told you to leave.”

  She raised innocent eyes to his face. “Where else would I be? I am your prisoner.”

  He shook his head. “You’re not my prisoner. You’re the town’s prisoner, and you aren’t even that anymore. Your friend’s offering to pay your fine, and I’m taking the offer.”

  The Amish man stepped to his side, pulling banknotes from a thick leather wallet. “Here. It is enough to buy her freedom.”

  Rebecca jumped to her feet, eyes blazing. “I will not take it!”

  Colin raised an eyebrow in her direction. “You don’t have to. I will.” He plucked the money from Amos’s willing hands.

  “No!” She stomped one foot, both hands balled into fists at her side. “I do not allow it.”

  He crossed to his desk and dropped the money in a drawer. First thing in the morning, he would deliver it to Judge Tankersley. The keys dangled from the lock in her cell, and he headed there to open it. If he had to go in there and shoo her out like a chicken, he would do it. But before he could reach the door, she dashed forward and thrust a hand through the bars. She snatched the keys and then retreated to the far corner of her cell, glaring defiance at him and clutching the key ring to her chest.

  Anger flared to life. Stubborn female! That expression was the same one that got her locked up to begin with. “You bring me those keys.”

  Her chin jutted into the air. “I will not.”

  From the far cell Kaspar’s raspy laugh met his ears, and even John was snickering. The sound inflamed Colin.

  “Rebecca Switzer.” Amos’s quiet voice managed to be soft and disapproving at the same time. “Have you been absent from home so long that you have forgotten our teachings? This behavior is most unbecoming a woman of our faith.”

  A flicker of remorse dampened some of the defiance on her face, and her tight grip on the key ring lessened.

  Then the door opened, and Colin swung around. When he caught sight of Mrs. Evans, a tray balanced against her hip, he paused.

  “Helllooo. I’ve brought your supper, child,” the old lady said as she entered. When she spied the outlaw, she gasped. “Oh, my.”

  “I’m glad you’re here.” Colin didn’t intend to shout, but frustration gave his voice volume. “Talk sense into this…this mule-headed woman.”

  Rebecca’s lips pursed in a return of defiance, but when her gaze slid to Mrs. Evans, hurt darkened her eyes and she turned away.

  “What’s happened?” Mrs. Evans noticed Amos then, and her eyes widened. “Has Rebecca’s fine been met?”

  “She’s free to go,” Colin said. “And she refuses.”

  “I do not want help.” Rebecca spoke to the wall. “I will pay my fine with funds I have earned or I shall serve my sentence.”

  Kaspar’s laugh became a guffaw. “I ain’t never been in a jail where the prisoners fight to stay.” He threw himself down on the bunk, stretched his legs out and folded his hands behind his head. “I think I’m going to like it here.”

  The outlaw’s needling fell on deaf ears. Colin turned to Mrs. Evans.

  “Please talk to her. Make her understand that she needs to go home to her family.”

  With an affirmative nod, Mrs. Evans approached the cell. “He’s right, Rebecca. Go home to your folks. We can handle things here. Poor mite. You got caught up in something not of your doing. I should have realized that sooner.”

  When Rebecca didn’t answer, Colin stomped across the room to his desk. The force with which he jerked on the bottom drawer pulled it all the way off its runners, and it crashed to the floor. He snatched something out of it and left it where it lay as he returned to Rebecca’s cell.

  “You don’t think there’s only one set of keys, do you?”

  Her pout deepened when he held the spare key ring up for her inspection. A second later, he’d unlocked the door and stormed inside. She didn’t budge, though he stood right next to her, towering over her and glaring down at the white kapp that covered her hair.

  “You are the most confounding, irritating, infuriating woman I’ve ever met, and that temper of yours has gotten you into trouble more than once. You’ve plagued me for over a week, and turned my jail into a laughingstock. Well, it’s over, do you hear?”

  The tension left Rebecca’s muscles, and her shoulders sagged. When she looked up, she focused on Colin, her eyes watery with tears.

  The sight doused the heat of his fury. He hadn’t meant to hurt her with hasty words, but he couldn’t have a woman in jail when two doors down was a murdering outlaw, could he? It wasn’t decent.

  Turning away from her corner, she stooped to pick up her sewing basket and then left the cell.

  “Rebecca.” Colin snagged her arm gently. “Look. The past week has been slow and I’ve coddled you, but things are changing. My days in Lawrence are short, and I won’t leave you here in this town. You belong in Apple Grove, with family. Let Amos take you home.” His eyes softened. “Put away childish thoughts. If your Jesse is the man God intends for you, he’ll find you.”

  She met his gaze, her eyes alight with emotion behind the tears, and then turned away.

  Mrs. Evans gathered her close. “Come along, dear. I’ll help you prepare for the trip home.”

  Rebecca allowed herself to be steered out of the jailhouse. When the door closed, Colin turned, aware of Amos’s gaze fixed on him.

  “You can leave now, Mr. Beiler. You can take Rebecca home.”

  “I have no bed tonight.” The cross-eyed gaze lowered to the empty bunk in the cell Rebecca had vacated, and his eyebrows rose with a question.

  “There’s a hotel down the street. Or you might try Miz Sawyer’s over on Lancaster Street. The jail is not an Amish boardinghouse.”

  “I’m heading toward Lancaster Street now,” John said kindly. “I’ll show you where it is, if you like.”

  Amos nodded, picked up his bag, and followed the deputy out. Colin stepped to his desk to slide the drawer back in place. Loneliness settled over him as tear-filled eyes haunted his thoughts. What kind of man made a girl cry? He’d never been good with women, and tonight proved that he hadn’t gotten any better at it.

  “Hey.”

  He glanced up to see Kaspar standing at the cell door, his arms dangling through the bars.

  “What do you want?”

  “Since the little gal left, can I have her supper, seeing how I didn’t finish mine?”

  EIGHTEEN

  There, there, child.” Mrs. Evans set a tea tray on the table in her cozy sitting room. “A bite to eat will soothe your nerves.”

  Rebecca stared at the tray laden with a bowl of round, plump fruit, yellow cheese, and thick slices of cake with a sugary glaze, all intended to tempt her appetite. The thought of eating turned her stomach. Colin’s words rang in her ears. Go home. Tears threatened, but she sniffed and blinked until the prickle stopped.

  Mrs. Evans hovered, her ha
nds clasping each other. “At least have a cup of tea. You can’t go to bed on an empty stomach.”

  Nothing would help tonight, but she nodded to make her hostess happy. Her rumspringa was nine days old, and what had she accomplished? She had stolen Papa’s horse, lost Emma and Luke’s money, shouted at a judge, been thrown in jail, and shamed her family in front of the entire district. Her goal of reuniting with Jesse was no closer than when she started out. And now it appeared that the tentative friendship she’d begun with Colin was not what she’d thought it was. She had been nothing but an irritant to him, a—what had he called her? A plague.

  What if Jesse thinks I am a plague too?

  Therein lay the source of her misery. What if the man she loved turned her away, as Colin had? As, apparently, her own papa had, since he hadn’t come himself.

  Lord, please let Jesse love me. I cannot bear it if he doesn’t.

  Mrs. Evans handed her a steaming teacup, and she held it in both hands to warm fingers that had gone cold with the gloom of her thoughts.

  “Rebecca.” The soft tone pulled her attention to the elderly face. Sorrow had carved the lines deeper. “I am truly sorry for writing to your family. The donations from the movement weren’t coming in as they should, and I don’t have the strength of conviction Annie does. To her and the others, a peaceful protest in your honor would have the same effect whether you marched with us or not. I heard whispers among the ladies that if you were still in jail when Frances Willard and Anna Howard Shaw arrive, then our statement would be even stronger.”

  The words fell on her like yet another blow. She lowered the cup from her lips. “But Mrs. Diggs promised to work for my release.”

  Mrs. Evans slid onto the cushion beside her and placed an arm around her shoulders.

  “And she has. Annie Diggs is a woman of honor. But not all the ladies in Lawrence share her strength of character, as evidenced by the lack of their donations. I hadn’t the money to give, or I would have.” She squeezed. “I did the only thing I could think to do. I knew a sweet child like you must come from a family who cares.”