by Kelly Long
Christi laughed. “I guess Gott had you two meet up then, right?”
“You know, my friend, I have never thought of it like that until now, but I couldn’t have a better husband than Matthew—even if I had described him myself.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Anke paced before the Stolfus library door, waiting for a word with John. Two weeks had passed and there had been no sign of Tabitha or Matthew coming anywhere near to confessing. The weather was turning colder and Tabitha had always seemed to catch a chest cold in the late autumn ever since she was a child.
Anke was distracted from her worried thoughts by the sight of Abner standing in the archway of the living room. For a big man, he always seemed to move with silent grace, and she couldn’t help but admire the strength of his forearms, revealed by his rolled-up blue sleeves.
“Studyin’ on me, Anke?” he asked softly, giving her a wicked grin.
“Nee,” she protested, feeling her cheeks flame.
“Well, I have nee problem admittin’ that I like ta study yer sweet shape—yer curves are full and soft, jest right ta fit my hands. . . .”
Anke helplessly crossed her arms in front of herself. How can he make me feel like he’s touchin’ me when he’s across the room?
He seemed to know that he wove some spell about her that left her unable to move, for he closed the distance between them and took her in his arms. She closed her eyes and waited in delicious expectation for the touch of his lips. However, a brusque “Ahem!” made her eyes fly open and she saw John Stolfus standing in the doorway of the small library.
She stammered a bit, but Abner laughed easily, sliding a big arm around her waist and turning her to face her employer.
“I’m glad somebody’s happy,” John said sourly.
Anke wanted to reply, but Abner beat her to it. “Ya might be a bit more joyful yerself if ye’d let the past geh.”
Anke waited for an explosion from John but none came, and she breathed a deep sigh of relief. Perhaps John would listen to gut sense after all....
* * *
Matthew caught Tabitha’s hand in his and pressed it hard against the thin mattress. He was trying desperately to keep a rein on the urgency his body felt but lost more of his control with each breathy sigh she made.
He had been no monk back in his hometown, but never had he felt as he did now, with Tabitha’s subtle movements bringing him ever closer to the brink of reason. When he stared down into the passion-washed depths of his wife’s blue eyes, he found that she was as caught up in the moment as he was.... He heard her soft whisper of pleasure and came apart with her until he lay gasping upon her breast....
“As that was the first time we made love,” Matthew said, smiling, “I’d say that our future will be blessed by the union of ourselves.”
He watched her blue eyes sparkle as she reached to brush his hair from his forehead. “I most definitely agree.”
* * *
Tabitha hummed softly to herself as she carefully scraped out the interior of a dried gourd she’d found in the little haus. Her thoughts dwelt on her husband’s lovemaking; those tender, heated kisses and the deep satisfaction her body knew from his. She looked up when she heard a footfall on the porch, not expecting Matthew back from fishing so soon.
“Hiya,” she called out gaily, but the smile faded from her lips when the tall, cloaked form made nee reply.
Some instinct drew her to her feet as a shiver of fear ran down her spine. She picked up a chisel from the small table in front of her and backed herself against the opposite side of the bed, away from the door.
“What do you want?” She was surprised to hear her own voice quavering in her ears. It felt as though she was a prey animal that had encountered a wounded mountain lion.
“Don’t ask me what I want, my beauty. Ask me what I have.”
Immediately, her thoughts rushed to Matthew, and whether or not he might have been hurt in some way. She took a death grip on the chisel and straightened her spine. “What do you have, then?”
“That’s simple, sweet Tabitha. I have you. . . .”
* * *
Abner stared into John’s blue eyes and wondered what his blood kin was thinking. Shunning a dochder and new sohn-in-law could not be easy, but the past could not be escaped sometimes. Abner knew that John had been drinking heavily and trying to run from his own thoughts, but there came a time when every man must face his torments and choose to turn to Gott to bear the problem.
He was still considering how Derr Herr might help John when his Anke spoke up boldly.
“John Stolfus, ya must tell your dochder the truth. No more lies and hidin’.”
“What is the truth?” John asked with bitterness. “That I lost Miriam and now will lose our child?”
“Only if you choose to, John,” Abner said quietly.
There was a pause in the conversation and the front door was pushed open with such force that it banged on the wall.
“Tabitha has been taken,” Matthew said forcefully as he stalked into the room.
“What are ya sayin’, buwe?” Abner asked, feeling dread in the pit of his stomach.
“There were signs of a struggle in the small cabin. She fought hard not to geh, but I fear the same one who strangled Amy Dienner now has Tabitha.”
“What makes you think it’s the same person?” John asked, as if rousing himself from a stupor.
“The small eagle that Tabitha carved is gone—missing from the mantel over the fire. I believe she took it as a sign to me.”
“More carvings . . . ” Matthew heard John mutter.
“Your dochder, sir,” Matthew countered.
“I will gather a search party,” Abner said, and he was pleased to notice that John made ready to geh as well.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Tabitha had nee chance to discover the identity of her abductor; she knew only that he kept her bound behind him and that they were making a merciless trek ever deeper into the mountains. She’d struggled to undo the tight ropes about her wrists but hadn’t been able to work the masterful knots.
She had managed to grab the carving of the eagle she had done and slipped it into her apron pocket. She had also succeeded in lashing out and digging her chisel into her captor’s forearm, but then he had slapped her calmly, brutally, and she had dropped her makeshift weapon.
She began to grow weary as the trek continued and daylight faded but knew she must keep her wits about her in order to escape. She began to pray beneath her breath, begging Gott for support to aid her scratched and bleeding legs. She remembered the Bible verse that promised “that those who wait upon Derr Herr shall find new strength . . .” She breathed a sigh of relief when her abductor finally paused in a moonlit clearing, as if considering their direction.
“You’ll never hide from mei husband,” she muttered, her throat parched.
He turned then and eased off his hat and cloak. She looked up with horror as Elam Smucker pulled on the rope that bound her, bringing her inches from his crooked smile. “You are mine now, Tabitha. As you’ve wanted to be all along. You needn’t pretend anymore, nor feign favor for that ruffian who would call you his . . . and, as you asked or pointed out, it is much cozier without my mother.” He laughed hoarsely. “See. I have done much for you.”
Tabitha swallowed hard. “And Amy Dienner?”
“A whore,” he said with a wave of dismissal. “She dared to mock you to my face and she met with an appropriate end.”
Tabitha thought desperately of how she might escape and decided that getting Elam to trust her might help. “I see,” she said softly. “You have done much for me. Now, allow me to be free of these ropes—that I might—” She swallowed back bile. “That I might repay you with kind hands.”
Elam laughed out loud, the sound of one who’d lost his grip on reality, and Tabitha shuddered as he turned and pulled her close once more.
“Nee, my beauty, not yet will I loose you. Not until we’ve clim
bed the Devil’s Elbow—a fitting and secure location for you to watch Matthew King die.”
Tabitha knew of the distant peak Elam named. It was patterned with shale stone and deep timber. It would be a fortified location, but she vowed with all her heart that it would be Elam and not Matthew who would meet his end on the dangerous height....
* * *
Anke pulled her dark cloak tightly about her and gave Abner a stubborn look. “I be capable of lookin’ fer the maedel just the same as ya.”
She frowned up at him when he leaned in close. “I know that ya love the girl as much as the rest of us, but we must take the horses and ride hard in order ta find a trail.”
Anke didn’t want to agree with him, though she knew he was probably right. She let him brush her forehead with a discreet kiss, then watched as he turned to John and Big Jim. Bishop Kore held a coil of rope, and even Asa Zook was there, along with his bruder. Other men stood outside the Stolfus haus, while women circled about, handing out packs of sandwiches and fruit.
When the search party had gone Anke rallied the women together to pray and prepare more food in the Stolfus kitchen. Only then did she slip unnoticed out of the back door and head down to the stables in the cold nacht air....
* * *
“It’s a strange thing—ach, not as strange as burping popcorn—but strange nonetheless.”
Matthew looked at Bishop Kore in the moonlit air and wondered what the spiritual leader of Blackberry Falls was talking about. “What’s strange?”
Bishop Kore clucked to his horse and then shook his head. “This searching . . . We’re searching for a shunned member of our community, who is supposed to be outside our notice. And frankly, I shouldn’t be speaking to you either, young Matthew.”
Matthew sighed and saw his breath on the air. Shunning to him seemed a futile practice, especially when there was a danger that superseded whatever transgression the person had been shunned for in the first place. “You don’t have to speak to me, sir,” Matthew said finally.
Bishop Kore smiled. “But I want to . . . there’s the rub! I like you, Matthew, and I like you and Tabitha together—like damp noodles.”
“Right. But then can you tell me specifically why Tabitha’s carving wood was worth shunning her?”
“Ach, but that’s not my story to tell.”
Matthew sighed heavily. “I’ve heard this before. If it’s not your story, then who—”
“It’s my story, buwe,” John Stolfus interjected hoarsely as he drew abreast of Matthew’s horse.
“Then will you tell me, sir—for Tabitha’s sake?” Matthew asked.
“Nee . . . not until she’s found safe. That is what’s most important.”
“You’re right.” Matthew nodded. “Let’s press on. Huntress sounds as though she’s picked up a trail.”
* * *
Anke leaned forward in the saddle, glad for the company of Aenti Fern, who sat sidesaddle on a pale white horse named Moonlight. The aulder woman rode with the ease of a child and gave Anke confidence by her very presence.
Anke wet her lips, then spoke softly into the nacht. “I’ve known ya ta have the sight, Aenti Fern. Do ya know who it is that took Tabitha?”
“Jah—I know this. It be the same man who killed Amy Dienner–I can see his hands, long and thin, bent upon evil. . . .”
Anke shivered in fear for her maedel but still was glad that she’d kumme. Something in her heart had prompted her night ride and she knew she must obey that still, small Voice.
* * *
Tabitha gasped with relief when the ropes around her wrists were untied. Then she looked around the miserable shed of a cabin as Elam turned up a kerosene lamp. There was a ramshackle table and two chairs, as well as an uneven floor littered with cigarette butts.
“Filthy Englisch,” Elam muttered, swiping his big shoe across the floor. Then Tabitha felt his attention turn to her.
Something of her fear and loathing of him must have shown on her face because he reached an almost tender hand to her cheek. She resisted the urge to shake him off, remembering her plan to get him to trust her.
“Ach, sweet Tabitha, as soon as Matthew King is dead, you and I can be married, as is proper—though I wonder if Bishop Kore is up to the ceremony—a little nutty, wouldn’t you say?”
She nodded automatically, understanding now that unlike Bishop Kore, Elam’s grasp on reality had fallen away and that she was at the mercy of a madman. She knew that keeping him calm would be another way of gaining his trust, though she shuddered when he withdrew two pistols from his belt and laid them on the table.
She accepted the chair he offered, unsure whether it would bear her weight. Then she folded her hands in her lap, hoping that he would accept her outward calmness as compliance and not tie her up again. Apparently her plan worked because Elam put a satchel on the table next to the guns. He withdrew an apple and handed it to her, seemingly without thought.
She took the fruit and ate it quickly. She had no idea how long she would be held and she needed to keep up her strength. But she knew, glancing out the dark single window of the shack, that Gott was looking out for her and that Matthew would surely come....
* * *
Abner rode his horse with easy control through a large stand of evergreens. He could hear the howl of Aenti Fern’s dog, Huntress, from somewhere in the distance, and he knew that they were gaining ground on whoever it was who’d taken Tabitha.
He pushed away the dark thoughts that whispered they might already be too late, then set his mind to praying. He thought of Anke and prayed for her as well, his heart feeling heavy at leaving her behind.
But then he drew abreast of John, who appeared to have left the buwe behind.
“It will be well, John,” he offered.
His auld friend grunted in response, then spoke softly. “I loved Miriam.”
Abner cleared his throat. “I know that.”
“But she—she loved the wood more than me. . . .”
“Maybe not, John. I’ve held my peace for a long time, but maybe—and ya can belt me if I lie—maybe ya drove her off by believin’ that lie—that ya were not as important as the carvin’.”
To Abner’s surprise, John seemed to listen, and then reached out a gloved hand to touch Abner’s arm for an instant. “Perhaps you are right, but I cannot undo what I’ve lost already. . . .”
“Nee, but ya can value what ya do have, and it’s more than most, John . . . much more than most. . . .”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Morning dawned gray, cold, and foggy. Tabitha shook herself awake, realizing that she’d fallen asleep upright in her chair. She heard the far-off howling of a dog and tried to blink away the sleepiness from her eyes. She looked about the cabin and found that Elam wasn’t there, and that the guns were missing from the table.
She got to her feet cautiously and then tiptoed across the floor. She swallowed a gasp when a gunshot sounded close by, and then Elam appeared in the doorway, an evil grin on his face.
“I do believe, your dear, better-to-be-departed, mistake of a husband will soon be arriving. I just gave them a warning shot, but the Devil’s Elbow is merciless terrain.... They’ll not be able to approach by horse.”
All the better—they’ll have more chance of cover, she thought. Then an idea came to her, clear and simple. She turned her back on Elam, a calculated move to demonstrate her relaxed attitude, and then resumed her seat at the table.
“You are so sure that marrying Matthew was a mistake—perhaps I’d better explain to you the unusual circumstances of our wedding. . . .”
“You needn’t lie to protect the fellow, Tabitha. Don’t you remember? I saw the lout in the forest with you, the day of your wedding—”
“Jah,” she interrupted. “But I’m talking about the particulars of how we met.... It involves a rather interesting letter or, um, ad. . . .”
* * *
Matthew tied up his mount with the others near a stand of shade
trees with plenty of grass. The Devil’s Elbow, as the place was called, loomed upward in front of him, and there was no mistaking the sound of a gunshot that pierced the fog. Huntress returned to the party of men but then sniffed the air and ran off in the opposite direction. Matthew frowned. “What does that dog scent?”
“Likely a squirrel for breakfast,” Abner replied beside him.
“All right, I’m going to get started,” Matthew said, his hand on a coil of rope.
“Wait, buwe.” Abner put out a bulky arm. “We don’t know what we’re facing. It might be better if we don’t approach from here—the one who fired that gun is expecting us. Maybe we kumme around from the back.”
“The back of Devil’s Elbow.” Asa Zook shook his head. “It’s all slate. I used to play there as a kid–nearly killed myself.”
“We can make it,” Matthew said. “We’ll geh slow.”
Asa looked him in the eye. “I once called ya a flatlander, but it’s your wife he’s got up there. So I can’t deny ya. We’ll geh slow, as ya say.”
“Danki,” Matthew said clearly, glad that Asa Zook no longer seemed an enemy.
* * *
Abner insisted on going first and, in truth, he was by far the most familiar of the party with mountain travel. He waved Matthew back when he would have gone ahead.
“Wait, buwe—Matthew. Ya got a wife up there, a future.”
Abner wasn’t prepared for the thump to his chest that Matthew responded with. “And what about you, Abner?” the buwe whispered. “What about Anke?”
“Ach, kumme on.... I mean—I know I care for her—”
“You’re courting,” Matthew persisted. “And in our weldt, folks have a funny way of marrying the person they court.”
Abner nodded. “All right. Ya climb next ta me and try not ta slide on the slate; it’ll make enough noise ta wake the dead.”
To make matters more difficult, as the men slowly began the treacherous climb, it began to rain. The slate stone broke off more easily in bad weather, but the sound of the rain disguised the noise of the rocks sliding.