Kitabı oku: «Amish Country Undercover», sayfa 3

FOUR

Grace released the pent-up breath she’d been holding since Jack left, slamming the door behind him. She stretched out her throbbing feet and winced from her burns. Her days of walking barr fees were over much earlier in the season than normal. Autumn was only beginning, and she should have had a few more weeks of warm weather to walk the farm with no shoes.

Two gunshots echoed through the night, reminding her of the danger just outside her front door. Both she and her daed jolted in their places on the floor. Her lack of shoes was the least of her worries when there was a gunman on the loose.

“Are we under attack?” Grace’s father laid his forehead on her shoulder. His voice had never sounded so fearful. The whole scenario was unfathomable for their simple Amish lifestyle, never mind for someone whose mind couldn’t comprehend normal, everyday things.

As Grace rubbed his cheek, she looked up at the closed door. The FBI agent had just left through it, hoping to catch the thief stealing his truck and trailer—and her horse. Would she hear another gunshot? Or had the thief just found his mark?

“I wish I could say no, Daed, but I’m not sure what’s going on. It appears someone is using me to steal horses from Autumn Woods, and the FBI believe I’m involved.” Grace wasn’t sure how much of that her father understood, if anything. She didn’t understand it herself. “What do I do? I could be in a lot of trouble.”

“We mustn’t fight,” he said solemnly, and lifted his head. “No fechde.”

Grace frowned at his appropriate reply. It was not what she wanted to hear. His Amish gentleness stayed true, even when he could lose his daughter to prison. He didn’t understand what was at stake. But he was still right. There could be no fighting.

“I know,” she replied, and swallowed a growing lump of resentment. With the possibility of going to jail, Grace wondered how far God would ask her to go.

She thought of Joseph in the Old Testament, wrongly accused of a crime that had put him in jail for years. As horrifying as it was for him, Joseph had to go there to save many lives. God needed him there. God’s will was done. “Gött’s will be done to me, as well,” she said under her breath. Her gaze dropped to her folded hands in her lap. A prayer formed in her heart, and she spoke it quietly as her eyes drifted closed. She sought protection for herself and her father in whatever place they were called to go from here.

Grace opened her eyes and lifted her gaze to the window the agent had been standing by earlier. The curtain billowed out in the slight breeze. Then Grace heard the truck’s engine shut down. Someone was out there.

Was it the agent? Or the thief?

Rising up on her knees, Grace crawled over to the window, careful to keep her skirt under her, protecting her from the broken glass. As she reached the window, she noticed a stain on her white curtains. Smudges of dirt, she thought.

But when she touched the fabric, a bit of the substance came off on her fingers. She studied her fingertips, then looked at the floor in front of her, finding little droplets of a dark liquid.

Grace dabbed her pointer finger in one and knew in an instant what it was.

“He’s bleeding,” she whispered, as the possibility became real.

Agent Kaufman was injured. But how?

It didn’t matter.

“Daed, he’s hurt!” Grace spoke louder, crawling back to her father. She pushed herself up on her feet, then cried out, crumpling back to the floor in pain.

Carefully moving to stand on the edges of her feet, Grace found her balance and caught her breath. “Daed, I have to go outside. The agent is bleeding.”

Grace remembered the grunt the lawman had given when he was carrying her. Had he been shot and never said a thing?

She glanced to the floor where he had placed her and taken care of her burned feet. He had lowered her father so gently, as well, all the while hurt and bleeding from his own wound?

The idea bewildered her. It was a gesture of charity even in the midst of pain. And now he was out there searching for the gunman.

Or bleeding out.

Grace felt at an impasse. Should she go out to look for him and help him? Or stay inside and risk him never returning?

Whatever she chose would put them in danger. But if she stayed inside, she would invite the danger in.

Grace’s eyes filled with tears at her father’s feebleness. Whatever she did, she had to make sure he was safe. That’s all that mattered.

“Daed, I’m going to go out for a while. I’ll be back real soon,” she said, in the most normal voice she could muster.

Benjamin squinted up at her and she knew he wasn’t placing her. She figured it was just as well. In a sad way, his brain was protecting him through this ordeal. When this nightmare was over, hopefully he wouldn’t remember a single gunshot.

Though Agent Kaufman would.

Grace limped over to the closet and found a pair of her father’s boots. She bound wet rags around her feet and gingerly slipped them into the boots. A careful test proved she could endure walking in them. At the door, she reached for a lantern to take with her, but thought better of it. A flame would only draw attention. Still, going out empty-handed seemed just as dangerous.

An idea flickered in her mind, one that seemed so wrong.

A glance in the direction of the closet, with its door still opened wide, showed her the long box with the shotgun was still there. She’d never fired it but had seen her daed load it enough times to understand the mechanics involved.

She looked his way, and it was as though her father could read her thoughts. His head tilted, and his green eyes sought hers for an excuse valid enough to go against the Amish way of no violence.

She had none.

With quiet acceptance, she opened the door and walked out into the dark of night empty-handed. She couldn’t use a weapon to help the agent, but Grace didn’t think there were any rules about creating a diversion.

She looked to the barn and the trailer. The thoroughbred kicked up a fuss against the steel sides. Grace headed toward the horses and thought that she just might have the perfect weapon, or weapons.

Three to be exact.

As soon as Jack left Grace’s house, he shot his truck’s tire to stop the thief from riding out with the vehicle and trailer. With a flat tire, the pickup couldn’t go anywhere, but by the time Jack made it there the driver’s side door was open and the cab was empty. The man had run off.

Jack scanned the tree line, knowing he would have to go in if he was going to catch this guy. The horse thief wasn’t leaving without the thoroughbred, and Jack wasn’t leaving without his thief—or thieves, if Grace Miller was really part of the operation. Although that was appearing to be not the case, he wouldn’t rule it out yet, especially since he’d witnessed her taking the horse at the track.

Jack reached under the dashboard and pulled apart the twisted strands that had hotwired the vehicle. With the engine killed and his gun up, he headed toward the base of the cliff for a game of cat and mouse in the woods.

Jack held his weapon in his right hand. His other palm was pressed tightly against his left side, where a bullet had clipped him during his run with Grace. “Thank you, God,” he muttered under his breath. The gash burned like crazy, but could have been so much worse than a missing chunk of skin. It still could be dangerous if he didn’t stop the bleeding, of course. Judging by the feel of the wound, the gunman had nothing bigger than a .22. Most likely why he’d missed his mark from out in the woods.

Jack pulled his hand away, only to find fresh blood on it. Well, maybe it wasn’t a complete miss. But at least the bullet didn’t get Grace. At least she was still locked up safely in her home. Jack would play hide-and-seek with this gunman all night if it meant keeping him away from Grace and Benjamin.

Jack pressed his hand over his side again and tilted an ear to his right. The sounds of leaves rustling in the breeze mingled with a few far-off crickets. Then he heard what he was waiting for.

The snap of a twig.

The gunman was off to his right, just as Jack had predicted. Moving stealthily, he followed the other sounds the thief made, and soon realized the guy wasn’t very smart. So far, he had moved in the same right, right, left pattern. Jack figured it was so he could find his way out of the forest. But that also meant he could be tracked.

And just like that, Jack became the stalker with the upper hand.

He readied his gun as he took silent steps to his right. At ten feet, he turned left to keep to the gunman’s right. Jack picked up his pace to outmatch his target’s. He took one more turn, this time left, and came face-to-face with a shadowed figure in the dark, his eyes wild at being caught.

“Who are you?” Jack asked into the night, his trigger finger ready to pull. He stepped closer and noticed a bandana covered half the man’s face.

Or more like a boy’s.

Jack huffed in disbelief. “They’re hiring them younger and younger these days. How old are you? Seventeen?”

“None of your business. I’m here for the horse, but you have inconvenienced me.”

Jack laughed aloud. “That’s a big word for such a little guy. That’s a good one.” He laughed again.

The gunman’s eyes narrowed with anger. “How would you like another bullet in you?”

Jack’s laughter stopped cold. “I let you take a shot at me once. It won’t happen again.”

The boy lifted his gun straight at Jack’s head. Jack wasn’t about to give him another chance to fire.

He jerked to the right as his left hand reached for the gun and pushed it away. The weapon blasted, but the boy gripped it firmly as they grappled together.

The sound of a horse running interrupted them. Then Jack heard the thud of several horses’ hooves on the hard ground.

“There’s more than one,” he said aloud.

“The horses!” the boy yelled frantically. “The horses are loose!” He took off in the direction of one of the running animals, then veered to go after another. “Which one is it?”

Jack could see the boy knew what was at stake if he didn’t return with the thoroughbred.

His life.

“Tell me who you work for, and I can help you,” Jack said. He hadn’t moved from his spot, just turned to watch the boy grow more and more frustrated.

“She did this!” the boy wildly yelled. “I knew she would be trouble. I knew it wouldn’t be that easy.”

“You think the Amish woman did this?” Jack asked, biting back an amused laugh at the idea. Then he gave the remark some thought. The boy had to be right. Only Grace could have released the horses and caused the confusion.

But that wasn’t all she’d managed to do.

“That little Amish woman not only freed the horses, but she managed to disarm you,” he said with a smirk.

The boy looked down at his hands, now empty. He lifted confused eyes and saw two guns now in Jack’s possession. The boy’s own gun was now aimed at him.

“So tell me who you are,” Jack ordered.

The boy’s eyes flitted from side to side before resting on Jack. Slowly, he peered through angry eyes. “I’ve got all night. How long do you have before you bleed out?” He lifted his head in defiance.

Jack recognized that smug expression. He’d been just a little bit older when he had given that same look to his family and walked away forever. Only Jack had gone into law enforcement. This kid wouldn’t make it out of his teens if he stayed on a track of crime much longer.

“You’re a dead man,” Jack said. “You know that, right? And it won’t be me pulling the trigger that does you in.”

“That only means I’ve got nothing to lose.”

Jack shook his head. “You’ve got everything to lose. You’re just too blind to see it right now. Let me help you.”

A crunch of leaves to Jack’s left alerted them to the presence of someone else. Jack expected to see a horse trotting in, but at the silhouette of an Amish woman, he knew it was Grace. His weakening state held him back a fraction of a second too long. Just the time the boy needed to reach down to his ankle, then spring into a run at Grace. He wrapped an arm around her neck just as Jack leaped toward them.

Grace shrieked and flailed. Quickly, her body stilled, and she whimpered.

Jack rushed the last few steps until he realized the boy had a knife to her throat. It must have been strapped to his ankle, Jack thought distractedly, while his brain raced to figure out his next move.

He raised his hands in surrender. “I’m not going to shoot you. I only want to help you get away from these people before it’s too late for you.” He set the guns at his feet to show his words rang true.

But he readied himself to spring in and take the boy down.

“You forgot one thing,” the youth said, keeping Grace’s back pressed tightly against him. “I don’t want to get away. I was going places. And this is so much bigger than a few horses.”

Grace struggled to get free and cried out again when her assailant twisted her arm. She was yelling as Jack took another slow step forward. He was nearly there when he saw her lift her right foot and jam it down hard on the boy’s instep. He noticed she wore large boots now just as the boy hollered out in pain, and she did the same.

The young thief let go of her, and she fell to the ground. Boots forgotten, Jack took the opportunity to run at the boy, but just as he was about to make contact, his opponent turned and ran into the dark.

Jack started to go after him, but knew that in his current state he’d never catch up. Still, he had to try.

Then he heard Grace crying behind him.

Jack stopped where he stood, torn in two directions.

But he couldn’t leave Grace sobbing.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, retracing his steps to her. “Did he cut you? Or is it your foot? I saw you stomp on him. With your burns that took some guts.”

Grace lifted her face to him. Fear shone in her widened eyes. “I fought back,” she whispered in despair.

Jack grabbed his side with a grunt as he knelt to face her. He frowned at seeing her agony, both physical and emotional, then sighed and helped her to her feet. Automatically, they leaned together for support. “I know you think you fought back, Grace, but actually, you saved his life. For at least tonight. I was going to have to take him down.”

“But he’s only a boy.”

“It was either you or him, and trust me, it wouldn’t have been you.”

Her face lifted to his. So close, he could feel her soft breath on his chin. He studied her bewildered expression and knew before she said a word what she would have had him do. He knew the Amish way of turning the other cheek. “In my line of business, I do my best to avoid bloodshed, but if there must be some, I aim for the one who’s holding the weapon, not for the innocent bystander caught in the fray.”

“Like yourself?” she asked, her gaze locked on his. “I know you were shot. I found your blood in my home.”

Jack didn’t deny it. With a shrug, he said, “I’ll live. It’s just a graze.”

“We still need to tend to the wound. It could become infected.” The angle of her chin told him she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“I thought Amish women were supposed to be passive,” he grumbled.

“I’ll take that as the pain talking.”

Jack bit back a grin. She was different from the Amish women he’d grown up with. Maybe she would have stuck up for him when he was younger, even when his family hadn’t.

No, probably not.

He let the wishful thinking go and said, “First we need to round up the horses. They’re my first priority.”

“Not me anymore? Does this mean you believe I’m innocent now?” Hope brightened her eyes.

Jack paused before answering. The image of Grace tying the stolen horse to her buggy was fixed in his mind. “It’s not my job to determine your innocence.”

“But—”

“Let’s go. Our shooter could return at any second with backup.” He took her elbow to guide her out of the woods.

“But do you still think I’m guilty?” she asked as they moved gingerly through the trees. If her feet were paining her, she didn’t mention it. He’d give her points for that.

But he still avoided her question. “Tomorrow, you’re taking me to the track, and you’re going to show me what you do there. Cooperate with me, and I might put in a good word to my supervisor.”

They left the woods, but before they descended the hill toward the house, Grace clicked her tongue, and two horses came stomping up behind them. They approached her and stood by, panting and nickering, and nosing her outstretched hand.

She had a gentle way with horses that Jack found sweet.

But not enough to make him walk away.

“I’ll round up the other horse,” he said. “Before he’s long gone.”

“Please do find him.” Grace worried her lower lip. “I don’t want another animal in these people’s hands. I won’t let it happen. And I need to get the others back from them. It sounds like they’ve been doing this for a while.”

“How do you plan to do that? Do you know who the kid’s boss is?”

“No, but I’ll be ready when he comes back.” She took slow steps, almost hobbling toward the house.

Jack hurried to take her arm again. “You don’t get it. Horse thefts are big business. If the boss thinks you can identify him, he will make sure you never do. You’re not safe here. Especially with the boy. In fact, he’s more dangerous than ever now because you embarrassed him by making him lose his gun. You won’t be safe until I know who he’s working for.”

“How will you find out?”

“I don’t know yet, but at least I know one thing beyond a reasonable doubt.”

“What’s that?”

“Innocent or not, the danger has only begun for you. And it’s nothing you can be ready for.”

FIVE

From her upstairs bedroom window, Grace watched the sun rise over the cliff behind her home. Her head had never hit the pillow all night, and she still wore her blue dress from the day before. A glance down to the truck showed Agent Kaufman changing a tire. They hadn’t said a word to each other since they’d come back to the house. She’d asked about caring for his gunshot wound, but he quickly refused her aid and left to retrieve the thoroughbred.

A thoroughbred.

Such a liability for her, especially during these times with her daed. But then, so was having an English FBI agent on the property. How would she explain either of these scenarios to the bishop and elders? With each passing day, she lost a little more of her grasp on the farm.

Agent Kaufman had told her to leave out some of her father’s clothes, but even though she chose articles from her daed’s younger, more robust days, they still wouldn’t make the English man look Amish. Everyone would be able to tell, and that would lead to more trouble for her. It was no wonder she couldn’t think of sleeping. When so much turmoil hung in the balance, sleep would have to wait.

The truck started, the sound of its engine startling her from her reverie. Jack was now behind the wheel.

Was he leaving?

Grace leaned forward in her chair to watch the truck and horse trailer drive up to the barn. The agent didn’t turn and head down the driveway toward the road, but instead pulled around the outbuildings and past the cornfields, heading to the cliff. From the window, the truck remained in view until it reached the trees and disappeared.

Grace stood, intending to run from the room, but immediately whimpered in pain and fell back into her chair. She bit her lower lip as she breathed through the burning ache on the soles of her feet. Even with the salve she’d lathered on, they would take time to heal. Grace decided to wrap them again with clean bandages, to allow for protection and padding. Her father’s boots were still beside her bed, and with them back on, she gave it another attempt, this time walking slowly and cautiously.

She padded out into the hall and down the stairs just in time to hear the closing of a car door. She made her way to the front door and opened it, expecting to see that the agent had returned.

But it wasn’t a truck in her driveway.

“Good morning, Grace. Sorry to come by so early.” Sheriff Hank Maddox walked up the steps to the porch. He removed his brimmed hat and held it in front of him with both hands. His hairline receded more and more as he approached his sixties, and beneath his forehead, he wore big sunglasses, even though the morning sun wasn’t burning brightly just yet. “I got a call from a neighbor who was concerned about some possible gunfire they heard a few hours ago. Have you had any trouble out here?” He leaned to the right to look behind her into the house.

Grace’s attention moved from him to his police cruiser, then over to the tree line where the agent had gone. With no sign of him, she answered, “Yes, Sheriff, the horse thief returned last night, and he shot off a gun.”

Sheriff Maddox pressed his lips into a tight line. “I don’t like the sound of that, Grace. I want you to consider installing a phone in the barn. If guns are involved, then this thief is not Amish as you thought. I want you to be able to call me at a moment’s notice. I do hope no one was hurt.”

Grace curled her sore toes. She also thought of Agent Kaufman’s bullet injury.

Before she could respond, Hank Maddox stepped close and put a black boot over the threshold. “This has crossed a dangerous line. You can’t be naive, Grace. This is serious.”

Grace ran her gaze up his large frame, then locked it on the reflection of herself in his lenses. She hated that she saw fear staring back at her. But she also hated to lie to the sheriff, even if Hank had proved to her that word wouldn’t get back to the bishop. Lying would be wrong.

“I’ve told you before, it’s nothing that I can’t handle,” she said. “I really don’t need you to concern yourself with this.” She swallowed hard before saying, “Or with me. I appreciate all you have done for me these past few months since Mamm’s death. Your understanding of our ways of living life out of the spotlight and the news has been appreciated, but I can handle this problem.” The sheriff had been able to keep a buggy accident out of the news, but there was no way he would be able to keep a thoroughbred theft and shootout from making headlines.

Hank stood still for a moment. Then he removed his glasses with one hand. His light blue eyes held a look of affection. She’d seen it more and more these days, but always acted like she didn’t. “With your mamm’s passing and your daed’s illness, I know your days are hard. I can’t pretend to not care. You’re like a daughter to me. Please consider me a friend. Things are only going to get harder with your father. It will be good to know you have people to reach out to for help.”

Grace sighed and smiled up at the man, who was at least thirty years her senior. She was being silly by ignoring his act of friendship, even if he was English.

“I’m sorry, Sheriff—”

“Hank,” he corrected, like he always did.

Grace frowned. She didn’t feel right using his name in a personal way. “You know the Amish don’t affiliate with the law. We are supposed to handle problems on our own, in our own way. Accepting your help is hard for me.”

“And just how are you handling these thefts?” he asked.

Before she answered, she heard a throat being cleared behind her, followed by a man’s heavy footsteps. Too heavy to be her daed.

“I’m here to help the Millers,” a deep voice said. “I came right away when I heard there was a troublemaker.”

Grace glanced out of the corner of her eye to see a tall Amish man. For a moment, she didn’t know who stood beside her. But in a flash, the realization of his identity had her turning to openly gawk.

A transformed Jack Kaufman tapped his chin to tell her to close her mouth.

He told the sheriff his name, but Grace didn’t hear much after that as she studied every minute detail of his attire. The changes went beyond the clothing she’d left out for him. His hair reached the correct length beneath his black brimmed hat. It had to be fake. How else could it have grown so fast?

But that wasn’t all that was fake.

The way Jack stood was not his normal authoritative body language. Instead, the lanky man towering over her projected a humble demeanor. His shoulders drooped and his chin stayed low as he addressed Sheriff Maddox.

Hank smirked in a condescending way. “If you don’t mind me asking, what makes you think you can hold off a man with a gun?”

Jack was slow to respond as he lifted a hand to rub his clean-shaven face, now so smooth. Grace didn’t know what made her reenter the conversation. Maybe it was Jack’s transformation into a credible Amish man, or maybe it was Hank’s sudden conceit, but she straightened to her full five-feet height, looped an arm through Jack’s and stepped close to him.

“Jack is a family friend from a community in upstate New York. They do a lot of hunting and are good with a gun. He makes his targets practically with his eyes closed. That gunman last night won’t be back, that I am certain sure of. Right, Jack?” She pulled on his arm, and her chipper voice hung between them.

The dark brown eyes Jack leveled on her told her to stop while she was ahead. “If he does, we’ll be sure to let you know, Sheriff.” Jack turned to Hank and held out a hand to shake. “Thank you for checking in on Grace and Benjamin. I really appreciate it.”

At first Hank didn’t take the proffered hand, but then he reached out and slowly nodded. “I’m glad to hear you have some sense.” Hank glanced Grace’s way, then he asked, “How long do you plan to stay, Jack? Just so I know when Grace might need some help.”

Grace felt Jack tense beside her. He said, “I’m able to stay as long as I need to.”

Hank stepped back. He put his sunglasses back on and patted his Stetson. “Just don’t go taking the law into your hands, or these matters won’t be your own anymore. I will have to get involved.” He looked Grace’s way, and with a warning nod, headed down the steps and back to his cruiser. His tires spit gravel behind them as he headed down the driveway and out onto the road.

It wasn’t until his car disappeared from sight that Grace and Jack uttered a single word, simultaneously.

“Ach.”

“Amos, you came.” Benjamin raced into the living room and reached out to Jack. He let the old man hold him tight as he looked over his shoulder at Grace’s startled expression. Then he mouthed, “Who is Amos?”

“Daed’s little brother.” She lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. “He must think you’re him.” Grace put her hands on Benjamin’s shoulders. “Daed, this isn’t—”

Jack shook his head to stop her. He patted Benjamin’s back. “It’s all right, brudder. Ich bin doh.” Jack asked about Benjamin’s state of well-being.

“We had an intruder last night!” the elderly man confided, mentioning his frantic fears the night before.

Grace frowned and tears filled her eyes, which were greener than Jack had realized. In the shadowy darkness the night before he’d thought they looked blue. But now the liquid bluish-green hue reminded him of a wooded pool in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains of Colorado where he used to swim. But those memories had turned nightmarish the day his hands were put in handcuffs, just as Grace’s eyes did for her father’s frightened mind.

“All is well,” Jack said to both of them. “I promise to catch him.”

Benjamin shook his head and spoke at a rapid rate. “Ar mawg ’n deeb si, oddar ’n marder.” He lifted his head and with piercing eyes, searched Jack’s face. Would Benjamin realize that Jack was not Amos? Jack braced for the accusation, but then Benjamin repeated the dreaded words for thief and murderer. “Deeb and Marder.” Fearful tears sprung to his old eyes.

The idea of a thieving murderer on the loose was no joking matter. The man had a valid reason for being afraid. Especially when he couldn’t protect his daughter. Jack leaned close, peering into the old man’s eyes.

“I will protect you.”

“Fershprech?” Benjamin implored Jack for reassurance.

“I promise.” Jack looked past Benjamin and studied Grace’s worried look as she bit her lower lip. Just a few hours ago, he had come here to arrest her. He still might have to, but for now he could relieve their fears of danger. As long as he was there, they would be safe. “I promise,” he said to her, drawing her attention away from her father.

Her body visibly relaxed before him. She sighed and her shoulders fell, as did her eyelids. She reached for Benjamin’s hand. “Komm. It’s time for breakfast.”

Jack watched the two of them slowly make their way toward the kitchen. He might be making a big mistake protecting her, but until he had more information from the racetrack, he would hold off detaining her. To bring her in and find out later he’d been wrong wouldn’t look good for him. But if he was right, and she was involved...

Jack shook his head. He would do the right thing and bring her in if that turned out to be the case. Regardless of her pretty eyes, he would do his job.

The smell of eggs and bacon quickly filled the house, and Jack’s stomach growled. He was so hungry he could eat a gaul. A horse.

A silent laugh escaped his lips at the irony. All this danger had befallen Grace because of stolen horseflesh. People would go to great lengths for a good horse. Even become thieves and murderers.

But why? There had to be a good reason to go that far.

Jack closed the front door and walked to the kitchen. He took in the interaction between the daughter and her ailing father. If Grace was involved, he knew why. She would have convinced herself Benjamin was worth the risk. That he would need more resources for his care than she alone could provide.