by Jan Drexler
Bram’s mouth was dry. “He’s not in California—he’s here. He almost killed an old man last night, a man who owns a farm I’ve been working on.”
There was silence on the other end, and then Peters cleared his throat.
“It looks like your cover is gone, Dutch. You need to get out of there.”
Bram leaned his head against the wooden side of the telephone booth. Peters was right. “Ja, es richtig....”
“Dutch? Are you still there?”
“Yes, I’m here. I said you’re right. I’ll call if I need anything, but I hope you don’t hear from me.”
“Right. And, Dutch, take care of yourself.”
Bram hung up the telephone. The tables were turned again, and he was no longer the hunter. As long as the snake was still around, he couldn’t risk staying here.
He sighed and slumped against the side of the telephone booth. Just when he had begun to hope...but no. Home and family? They weren’t for him. He was a fool to think his life could be anything more than hunting down men like Kavanaugh. Ellie deserved more than that, much more.
But there was one thing he could do for her. He could draw Kavanaugh away from here, away from Ellie and this community. Once he drew him far enough away, he’d make sure the gangster never got a chance to come back.
Bram rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly aware of how long this day had been. And it had been the last day. He had no illusions about what could happen when he offered himself as bait, but he couldn’t hope to get rid of that snake without sacrificing himself.
There was one last risk he would take, though. If Kavanaugh hadn’t found him by morning, he’d attend the Sunday meeting. He couldn’t bear to leave without seeing Ellie one more time.
Chapter Seventeen
Mornings on church Sundays usually started early, but this one was even earlier for Ellie. Since Mam had stayed with the Millers last night, Ellie took on the task of getting the entire family ready for Sunday meeting. She was thankful for the long ride in the buggy to Amos Troyer’s. The children rode quietly, making up for their lost sleep after an early breakfast.
Watching the passing fields, Ellie tried to quell the sinking feeling in her stomach. What would she say when she saw Bram? Was he still set on taking revenge for Hezekiah’s wound? He had said it wasn’t vengeance—but could it really be anything else?
“We have much to be thankful for today, knowing Hezekiah is safe,” Dat said. He seldom spoke on the drive to meeting, using the time to pray about what he would say if he were asked to give the sermon.
“Ja, we do, but I can’t help worrying about them. How will they live on their farm?”
Dat reached over and laid his hand on hers. “Gott knows their needs. Reuben is going to live with them for the rest of the summer and into the fall, and after that, we’ll see what Gott has planned. Keep trusting Him.”
* * *
Caution still dogged Bram as he tended to his few chores before church. If Kavanaugh knew where he was, what was keeping him from showing his face? Driving through the still, morning air, he kept his eyes and ears open, but there was no sign of the Packard.
Bram set a mask over his frayed nerves as he drove into the Troyers’ crowded farmyard. No one could suspect this would be his last time with them.
As he drove past the congregation lined up outside the barn, he caught sight of Ellie greeting another woman. She glanced toward him and gave him a smile, making his heart soar in spite of the thoughts of Kavanaugh hovering on all sides.
He joined the line of men just as the congregation started into the barn, and he chose a seat where he wouldn’t be tempted to glance at Ellie during the service. She was by far the most beautiful woman there, but Bram grew cold every time he thought of what could happen if Kavanaugh knew about her. His gut twisted as he remembered the bloody gash on Hezekiah’s head, but instead of the old man’s matted gray hair, he saw Ellie’s fine brown hair and kapp.
As Bishop Yoder and the ministers rose to go to an upstairs room for prayer, one of the older men started the first phrase of Das Loblied, and Bram joined in the familiar hymn with the congregation, his mind still on the gangster. If Kavanaugh was looking for him, wouldn’t it be smart for him to lie low? But then how long would it take for him to stop feeling as if danger was stalking him? He would never get there. He’d always be looking over his shoulder. How long could he live that way?
Then, as he looked up between hymns, Bram saw Ellie lean forward slightly, right into his field of vision. Her lips were parted in a smile as she whispered something to Susan, and her face held a look Bram hadn’t seen before—joy, contentment. He couldn’t stop staring at her. Longing for her filled his heart.
Bram knew what he had to do, in spite of the ache in his chest. Or because of it. As soon as Sunday meeting was over, he would leave. He’d leave Partner and the buggy at Matthew’s, along with what was left of the cash he had. He could leave a note telling Matthew to give everything to Ellie. From there it wouldn’t take long to walk to the highway, and then he could hitch a ride somewhere. Anywhere but Chicago. Anywhere but here.
Kavanaugh would follow him, with any luck—he’d leave a big enough trail—and it really didn’t matter where the gangster caught up with him, as long as Ellie was safe.
He forced his eyes away from Ellie and her family. He was aware of the service continuing as one of the ministers prayed, but his mind was occupied in a war. He knew what he should do, but could he do it? He had never met a woman like Ellie. The thought of leaving her, of never seeing her again, pulled his heart in one direction, and then the knowledge of what could happen if Kavanaugh knew how much he cared about her sent cold fingers yanking him in another.
Bram forced his hands to unclench, willing himself to relax. He had to remember where he was. Matthew was sitting in front of him; Reuben and Benjamin Stoltzfus were to his right. Welcome Yoder was two benches in front of him, sitting next to Eli Schrock. These men had accepted him into their community, helped him on his farm and given him their time and advice. Could he turn his back on them? In the past few weeks he had gotten a taste of what the church could be, what his heritage could give him, and all he planned to do was use them and throw them away.
As soon as the service ended, Bram made his way through the men to the side of the barn. He glanced behind him as he slipped out the door, but the milling crowd cheated him out of one last look at Ellie. He closed the door, ignoring the sinking feeling in his belly.
She’s just a woman.
Who was he kidding? There wasn’t another woman like her.
He rounded the corner of the barn, heading toward the parked buggies, but stopped short when he saw John Stoltzfus waiting for him.
“Good morning, Bram.”
“Good morning, John.”
“I was hoping to talk to you.”
Bram quelled the retort that came to his lips—words from his own anxiety. He couldn’t speak to this man like that. Now that John had stopped him, he wouldn’t be able to make his quick escape anyway. He mentally closed the door on his plans and forced himself to turn his attention to the older man.
“I was watching you during the meeting.” John paused, pretending to study the buggies lined up in the field.
Bram waited. He knew John well enough to know that he would get to his point sooner if he let him do it in his own time, no matter how anxious he was to get going.
“Is something bothering you? You seemed distracted.”
Bram almost choked. Ja, he was certainly distracted, but he thought he was better at hiding it than that. One thing Bram had learned over the past several weeks was just how deep John’s perception of people went.
“Ja, I’ve been worried about Hezekiah, just like everyone else. It kept me from paying attention to the meeting as I should have.” If
he gave John a partial explanation, maybe he would leave it at that. Once Bram was out of the area, Kavanaugh would be old news.
John turned to look at him.
“You’ve been on my mind a lot lately. Your name keeps coming to me at odd moments, and I always pray for you when it does.” Bram didn’t know what to say. Had anyone ever prayed for him before? “It can’t be easy leaving your old life behind.”
He doesn’t know the half of it, Bram thought, but without the bitterness of a couple months ago. He felt an urge to confide in John—to warn him about Kavanaugh, about his part in the gang and the danger he had brought to this community—but the calm acceptance in John’s eyes stopped him before he even started. He couldn’t talk about the sordid things he was involved in. Not here, not now, not among these people. Once he left, it would all be over for them anyway.
“Ne, it isn’t,” Bram said. “I lived that way for many years, and old habits are hard to get rid of.”
John nodded, waiting for him to go on. How much could he confess? John deserved to know.
“I’ve seen an old acquaintance around.”
“Someone from Chicago.” John’s words were a statement, not a question. “Someone you don’t want to run into again.”
“I did some things there that...well, that I’m not proud of.” Bram swallowed. He had already said more than he should, but he felt that silken coil again, urging him on. “I want to just leave them behind me, along with the people I knew there.”
John’s eyes were piercing. Could he see the details Bram was leaving out? Bram wasn’t sure how much this man had already guessed.
“If you left any unfinished business, you should resolve that before trying to move on. Otherwise, you’ll never be free of your past.”
Bram rubbed the back of his neck as John paused.
“I heard an automobile go by our farm last night. A big, powerful one. No one around here owns a machine like that.” John looked at him again. “It went by twice.”
Bram’s hand automatically went to the pocket where he carried his gun. He closed his cold fingers around the grip.
“You don’t need your gun.”
He shot a glance at the older man. How...
“Ach, ja, I’ve known about it for a long time.”
Bram dropped his pretense. It looked as if John knew everything.
“John, this guy is dangerous. I need my gun.”
“We are a people of peace, Bram. Guns have no place in our lives.”
Bram looked away, anywhere but into the older man’s face. John had no idea how violent life could be outside this community. Violence had to be dealt with or else innocent people would be hurt, people like Hezekiah.
“I need to protect myself. I need to protect the people around me.”
“Do you believe Gott can protect you?”
Did he believe that? Ja, up to a point...but at what cost?
“I don’t know,” he answered John truthfully. “I’m not convinced that Gott’s protection works against bullets.”
“Perhaps bullets aren’t what you need to worry about.” Not worry about bullets? What could be worse? What was he talking about? “Put your trust in Him, Bram.” John paused until Bram looked at him. “Your very soul is in danger, and, more important, the soul of the other man. If he commits a heinous sin because of your actions...” John shook his head at his own words. “There are things more important than our lives.”
Bram looked away again. He wished he could have that confidence, but he knew too much. He had seen too much.
“I have to go.”
“Bram.” John stopped him with a hand on his arm. “I’ll still be praying for you.”
Bram nodded his thanks and then continued to his buggy.
* * *
By the time Bram was within sight of his farm, his plan was set. He had to protect Ellie at all costs. If he survived somehow, could he come back eventually? And see Ellie married to another man? Someone like Levi Zook? The thought made his hands clench. No, he had to leave for good.
As he turned the horse into the barnyard, he saw it. The maroon Packard sat along the side of his barn, out of sight until he turned into the drive. The knot that had been growing in his stomach all morning exploded.
He sawed on Partner’s reins, trying to get the horse to turn, but it was too late. Kavanaugh sauntered out of the barn, followed by Charlie Harris’s lumbering form. Kavanaugh’s face was stony, but Charlie’s grin turned Bram’s feet to ice. Running was out of the question. Bram couldn’t pray. He put all his strength into keeping his voice steady.
“Hello, Kavanaugh. I didn’t expect to see you around here.”
The gangster’s thin face twisted into a sneer as he gave Bram a cold smile. “I was surprised—but very happy—to see you while I was doing some business in Goshen a couple weeks ago.”
Bram put an amazed look on his face. “I didn’t see you there, but then, I’ve been busy.”
“I can’t help being curious to know—” Kavanaugh took a drag from his cigarette, measuring his words
“—what you would be doing in that hick town, dressed like some—” he gestured with his cigarette toward Bram, the buggy, his Plain clothes “—like some farmer.” He emphasized the last word with derision and then took another drag. Bram waited. Kavanaugh’s right hand was tucked under his suit jacket, where he would have quick access to his gun.
“And then when I happened to see you at that old man’s farm—” the cigarette smoke plumed from Kavanaugh’s mouth and nose as he spoke “—I couldn’t believe my luck.”
He pulled another lungful of smoke from the cigarette.
“I didn’t like it when you slipped away from us last night, you and that buggy.” He exhaled the smoke. “I’m glad we finally tracked you down.” The gangster paused and tapped some ash off the cigarette with a flick of his finger. “What happened to the Studebaker, Dutch?”
Bram was silent. He knew better than to respond when Kavanaugh was trying to bait him. Charlie, off to Bram’s left, still grinned and flexed his hands.
“You left Chicago in a hurry and didn’t tell anyone where you were going, and around that same time some G-men showed up, knocking on our door. That makes me wonder what you’re up to. I wasn’t sure where to even begin looking for you until I saw you on that farm wagon a few weeks ago.”
Bram still didn’t answer. Anything he said to Kavanaugh now would only make things worse for him.
Kavanaugh stood at the horse’s side, eyes even more narrow than usual, staring at Bram. He threw his cigarette butt on the ground and twisted it into the dust with his heel. Without taking his eyes off Bram, he beckoned to Charlie.
“Get him down.”
Charlie wasn’t the type to be gentle at his work. He reached up and grabbed the front of Bram’s coat, then pulled him off the seat as easily as a kitten. Charlie held him up; his feet brushed the dirt of the drive.
“Shall we go into the barn?” Kavanaugh’s polite words mocked the desperate situation Bram was in. Unless a miracle happened, he was a goner.
Without waiting for an answer, Kavanaugh turned and led the way as Charlie dragged Bram after him. Dust motes swirled in the sunbeams, throwing bars across the shaded interior. Charlie backed Bram into the support beam with a shove, holding him with his arm across Bram’s chest. Cigarette butts littered the dirt floor. They must have been waiting for him all morning.
Bram looked toward the roof as Kavanaugh closed the barn door. Thank Gott he had been able to see Ellie one last time.
Charlie patted him down, finding his gun. The thug stuck it in the waistband of his pants. When Bram eyed it, Charlie saw the direction of his gaze and slammed an elbow into his ribs.
“I wouldn’t have taken you for a churchgoing chump,” Kavanaugh bega
n, lighting another cigarette. After taking a puff, he turned the burning end around, staring at it as if he had never seen the glowing tip before. “We don’t like stool pigeons, Dutch. You know that. You betrayed me, and no one gets away with that. Want to tell us what you told the feds?”
* * *
Ellie watched Dat closely. Ever since the meeting ended and the women started preparing dinner, he’d paced at the edges of the crowd. When she glanced his way, he was often looking toward the road, where Bram’s buggy had disappeared.
She hadn’t noticed Bram leaving until he was already on the road, his horse trotting away at a fast pace. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had left Sunday meeting early, before the meal and fellowship afterward. But if something had been wrong, wouldn’t he tell her?
Not long after the meal ended, Dat found Ellie as she talked to yet another concerned woman about Hezekiah and Miriam. “It’s time to go.” His voice was gruff, short, and Ellie knew she shouldn’t delay. Dat was never in a hurry without a reason.
By the time Ellie had gathered her children, Dat was waiting with the buggy. Mandy and Rebecca followed.
“But why can’t we stay and come home with Reuben?” Rebecca asked as they climbed into the buggy.
Ellie turned to help Susan settle in the backseat between the girls. “Because the boys aren’t coming home until late, after the singing.”
Even as Ellie spoke, she gave Dat a questioning glance. Why the hurry?
Dat didn’t speak, but started the horse off at a quick trot. When he reached the end of the lane, he turned west, instead of east toward home. Now what?
“Dat,” said Ellie, leaning close so the children in the back didn’t hear, “is something bothering you?”
“I had a conversation with Bram earlier. I’m a bit worried about him, and I thought we’d drive past his place on the way home, just to check if things are all right.”
Ellie felt a cold chill, even though Dat’s voice was calm. She trusted her father’s judgment. He was able to read people so well, some thought he had a gift. If he felt this concerned after talking with Bram...