Danger In Amish Country

Mamm didn’t like to think of her doing anything alone. She was still trying to marry off her maidal daughter.

“Ya, I’m glad he was there, too.” Sara kept her tone neutral. “Lily and Lovina had stayed after school to help, so they were there to watch his little girl.”

“They’re gut girls, even if that Lily is a bit flighty,” Mamm said. “So, Caleb is a fine-looking man, ain’t so? And I hear Josiah King is wonderful glad to have his nephew there to help out while he’s laid up. Maybe Caleb will even decide to stay, ya?”

“Stop matchmaking,” Sara said with mock severity. “I’m not looking for a husband.”

“Ya, but they’re nice to have, all the same.” Her mother’s eyes twinkled.

“And then who’d be here to help with the dishes?” Sara retorted, smiling. “If I—” She stopped at the sound of voices in the living room, where Daed had been settled in his favorite chair, reading The Budget, the Amish newspaper.

She exchanged glances with her mother. “That sounds like Chief O’Brian.”

“You’ll be wanted, then, ain’t so?” Mamm handed her a towel. “Dry your hands and hurry in.”

Sara touched her hair to be sure it went smoothly under her white organdy kapp and shook out the apron that matched her green dress. She reached the living room just as her daed called out for her.

“Chief O’Brian is here to talk about that poor man you found.” Daed pushed his glasses up on his nose, looking as if he wished anyone else had been the finder.

“Nothing to be alarmed about, Eli,” the chief said easily, maybe aware of Daed’s tendency to be upset about the Englisch world intruding on their lives. “I thought you’d want to be up-to-date about what was going on.”

“It’s kind of you,” Mamm said, a swift look at her husband reminding him to be hospitable. “You’ll have some coffee and maybe a piece of apple pie, ya?”

“That sounds fine, Emma.” Chief O’Brian’s expression relaxed, something that was the usual result of Mamm’s warm friendliness.

Sara gestured him to the sofa and took the rocking chair, waiting for him to begin and hoping it wouldn’t be questions about Caleb or Rachel.

“Well, we identified the man who died,” he said, setting his cap on his knees. “His name was Jase Kovatch.”

“Kovatch.” Daed pronounced the name carefully. “I can’t say as I know him.”

“No, don’t suppose you would. The police did, and that’s not exactly a recommendation,” Chief O’Brian said.

“He’d been in trouble, then?” Sara asked.

The chief nodded. “Minor stuff, mostly. Drunk driving, petty pilfering. No family that we can find, and I can’t see as anyone’s going to miss him much except maybe some of his drinking buddies.”

“That is a sad way to live.” Mamm set a mug of steaming coffee and a big wedge of apple pie topped with vanilla ice cream on the end table next to him.

“Sure is.” Chief O’Brian took a bite of pie and spoke thickly around it. “I just can’t figure out what he was doing up on the ridge to begin with.”

“Small-game season,” Daed said promptly. “Out after rabbits, maybe.”

The chief shook his head. “No gun,” he said succinctly.

Sara’s mind chased after reasons for the man to be out there and came up empty. This time of year, people went into the woods with shotguns, looking for small game. Bird-watchers and nature lovers were sensible enough not to wander through the woods during hunting season, especially not when deer season started next month. Then all the hunting cabins would be filled to bursting.

She realized the room had fallen silent. Chief O’Brian was looking at her.

“I can’t think of anything that would take the man up there,” she said, hoping she hadn’t missed a question.

“You haven’t seen him around? Noticed anyone maybe taking an interest in the school, for instance?”

“No.” She could only shake her head, perplexed. “Why?”

O’Brian shrugged. “I went up top today, along with a couple of men. We didn’t find anything unexpected. But I noticed one thing about that place.” He paused, looking grave. “It has the best view a person could have of your schoolhouse.”

His words sank in, and alarm ricocheted along Sara’s nerves. She didn’t need to look around the room to know that they were all thinking the same thing.

Everyone wanted to believe that their corner of the world was safe. Unfortunately, danger was not limited to the back alleys of big cities. Even innocent schoolchildren weren’t safe from evil in the world.

“Now, I don’t want you folks to get all upset about it,” Chief O’Brian said. “If this fellow... Well, he’s dead now. But I wouldn’t be doing my duty if I didn’t mention it, just in case.”

Sara nodded. “Danki, Chief O’Brian. If I see anything out of the ordinary, I’ll let you know right away.”

He seemed satisfied, turning back to his pie, but Sara couldn’t let go of it so easily.

Tomorrow was the semiannual auction held to support the school, and every Amish person in the area, as well as plenty of Englisch, would be on the school grounds for the event. Including, she hoped, Caleb King. She had to confront him about what he hadn’t told Chief O’Brian. She must make him understand that if Rachel had seen anything, she had to speak.

THREE

“The playground certain sure looks different today, ain’t so?” Caleb tried to keep his voice cheerful as he and Rachel neared the auction on Saturday. Auctions were a common way of raising money for Amish schools, valued as much for their fellowship as for their fund-raising.

Rachel clung a little tighter to his hand. “Ya,” she murmured.

“We’ll bring something to Onkel Josiah when we leave, ya? Maybe a funnel cake or an apple dumpling.” Onkel Josiah had declined to come, since he was still hobbling around on crutches and fretting over his broken leg.

Caleb’s voice sounded unnatural, even to himself, but maybe Rachel didn’t notice. At least she was staring, wide-eyed, at the tents and canopies that had sprung up overnight on the school grounds. Besides the auction going on inside the big tent, there were plenty of improvised stands selling food and drink, which seemed about as popular as the auction itself.

A couple of Englisch teenagers passed them, and Rachel shrank against him. He put a hand protectively on her shoulder, a wave of dread washing over him. He’d been so sure this move would be good for his Rachel. Instead, it seemed to be having the opposite effect.

Onkel Josiah’s offer had seemed a godsend. Caleb had been so eager to get Rachel away from the sad memories of her mother. But instead of making things better...

The thought trailed off when he saw Teacher Sara coming toward them. She was holding the hand of a little girl who looked about Rachel’s age.

Sara met his gaze and smiled, showing a dimple at the corner of her lips. With her rosy cheeks and those dancing green eyes, she looked hardly old enough to be a teacher, but he knew from Onkel Josiah that she was only a year or two younger than he was.

She and the little girl came to a stop in front of them while he was still trying to decide if her hair was blond or brown or something in between. As if aware of his thoughts, she smoothed her hair back under her kapp with one hand.

“Look, Becky, here’s Rachel. Now you’ll have someone just your age to walk around with.” Sara’s gaze met Caleb’s. “This is my niece, Becky, my brother’s girl. She’s been longing for another girl to walk around with, instead of her brothers.”

He nodded to the child, who had a pert, lively face and hair a shade darker than Sara’s. Becky grinned at him and grabbed Rachel’s hand.

“Komm, schnell, Rachel. Aunt Sara said she’d get me a treat but I must look at everything before I decide. You can help me.”

Rachel clung to his hand a moment longer, but at an encouraging nod from her teacher, she let go. The two girls started off together.

“Don’t get too far away from us, ya?” Sara cautioned.

Becky nodded, already chattering away to Rachel about the relative merits of a funnel cake or an ice-cream cone.

“Danki,” he said softly. “It’s kind of you to think of helping Rachel get to know your niece.”

“I thought Rachel might feel more at home with a friend,” Sara said. “She already knows Becky a little from school. And our Becky is such a chatterbox. She talks enough to charm a turtle out of its shell.”

“Rachel isn’t a turtle, but she does have a shell,” he admitted, impelled by a need to explain something he didn’t quite understand himself. “Her mother was sick so long—” His voice seemed to stick there. “She passed not quite a year ago. Rachel hasn’t had much of a childhood.”

“That must have been so hard on both of you.” Sara’s eyes were warm with sympathy.

“Ya.” He struggled to find words. “I hoped a fresh start, away from all the reminders of her mamm, would help her forget about the past.”

“But she can’t—” Sara began. Then she paused, seeming to censor what she was about to say. “I’m sorry it’s been a difficult beginning for her here.”

A burst of laughter came from the auction tent. Sara glanced in that direction, smiling at the sound. “Josh Davis is a fine auctioneer. He always gets the crowd into a buying mood.” She turned back to him. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Ya?” They were as isolated in the noisy crowd as anywhere, he supposed. “Has something happened?”

“The chief came to our house last night. They know the man’s name now.” She shot a look at the girls and lowered her voice. “Jase Kovatch. The chief said he’d been in trouble with the police before.”

Caleb nodded, frowning. The death of an unknown Englischer was sad, but nothing to do with them, surely.

“The worrisome thing is that the police could find no reason for him to be up there on the cliff.” She took a breath, as if she didn’t want to say more. “The chief says there’s nothing much up there. Nothing but a good view of the school.”

She didn’t say any more. She didn’t need to. There wasn’t an Amish person alive who didn’t know about the Amish schoolchildren who’d died at the hands of an Englischer.

“That’s bad, that is.” He fought to speak through the tightness in his throat. “But since the man is dead, there’s no call to worry, ya?”

Sara’s expression said she wasn’t convinced of that. “Maybe. But we don’t know for sure. If there’s any danger to the kinner— Caleb, don’t you see you must speak to the police about Rachel’s fears?”

“No.” His response was instantaneous. “I won’t have my child involved in this.”

“But—”

He cut off her protest by grabbing her wrist. He felt her pulse thunder against his palm and released her just as quickly.

“She is my child. It is for me to say. And I say no.”

They stood so for a moment, their eyes challenging each other, and the noise surrounding them seemed to fade away. He felt... He wasn’t sure what he felt.

Before he could decide, a voice called Sara’s name. They turned away from each other, and he wondered if Sara was as relieved as he was.

“Teacher Sara.” The speaker was Silas Weaver, leader of the school board. Behind him stood another man, an older Englischer who seemed vaguely familiar.

Silas nodded to Caleb in greeting before turning to Sara. “I need a word.” He made it sound like an order.

“I will keep an eye on Becky,” Caleb said. “Take your time.”

He moved off after the girls, just as glad to have this uncomfortable conversation interrupted. Teacher Sara seemed to have a knack for eliciting all sorts of feelings in him, and he didn’t have room in his life for that.

* * *

Sara had to push down her instinctive reluctance to talk to Silas Weaver. She didn’t have a choice. He was president of her school board. Unfortunately, he also possessed a stern, disapproving temperament that didn’t make him easy to deal with.

She tried to manage a smile as she joined the man. “The auction is going well, ain’t so?”

He grunted, casting a disapproving gaze at the tent. “We’ll be lucky to end up with enough to cover our costs for a few more months. Folks don’t realize how expensive it is to run a school.”

Sara was well aware of Silas’s reluctance to spend money on the school other than necessary repairs. She’d had more than one clash with him and come off the loser. The other two board members seemed as cowed by Silas as his own kinner were.

“Well, we must hope we’ll realize more than expected,” she said, not eager to get into another disagreement with the man.

A grunt was his only answer. He gestured to the Englischer who stood nearby. “Mr. Foster has come to me with a proposition.”

Sara nodded, answering Mr. Foster’s smile with one of her own and thinking she detected a bit of sympathy in his eyes.

“Mitch, please. We don’t need to be formal, and I know Teacher Sara.” Foster was lean and graying, with a tanned face and a ready smile. The owner of the local hardware and sporting-goods store, he was well-known for sponsoring all the local sports teams. Not that the Amish participated in those, but a person could hardly not know about it. People in a small community talked, that was certain sure.

“See, it’s this way, Teacher Sara. I heard about the trouble you folks had with finding that body and all.”

Silas’s look turned more disapproving, if possible. “It’s not proper, an Amish teacher going about finding bodies.”

She could hardly expect him to approve, but Sara wasn’t sure what she could have done about it. A little edge of apprehension pricked her. Silas might well seize any excuse to replace her with someone younger and more malleable.

“I’m sorry that what happened brought attention to the school,” she said.

“Nonsense,” Foster said bracingly. “You couldn’t help what happened. You could hardly leave the poor fellow lying there. Anyway, it made me think about your school.”

She nodded, not sure where this was going.

“So the long and short of it is that I noticed the playground equipment is getting a bit dilapidated. I figured I’d like to donate the materials you need for an overhaul. Maybe add a few new pieces, as well.”

Sara managed to restrain herself from jumping up and down in excitement. “That’s very generous of you, Mr. Foster.” She slid a look at Silas, expecting a negative reaction, and realized he was actually nodding.

“Generous,” Silas echoed. “Though I’m not sure the kinner need all these newfangled things to play with when they should be attending to their studies.”

Silas’s philosophy was always that what had been good enough for him was good enough for everyone.

“Scholars seem to do better with their studies when they’re able to run about and play in the middle of the day,” she said. Please, she prayed silently.

“Sure thing,” Foster said. “Everyone knows that’s true. They’ve got to run off some of their energy. So what do you say?”

Silas gave a short nod, as if to do more would be unbecoming. “Well, if you insist, we accept. We can set up a work frolic to get the repairs done. I think Teacher Sara already has a list of what’s needed, ain’t so?”

Sara nodded, unable to keep a smile from her face. “Ya, I do.” A list she’d presented to the school board at least twice with no action. “I’ll get it for you.”

“Fine, fine.” Foster took a quick look around. “I do need to get going, but I can wait a few minutes. Or you can have your daed drop it off at the store.”

“I’ll get it right away.” She spun and headed for the schoolhouse, excitement bubbling, hardly able to believe Silas had agreed to this. Maybe the thought of getting something free had outweighed his reluctance. She’d best get the list to Mr. Foster before Silas changed his mind.

She stepped inside, closing the door behind her, mind intent on the list. She took one step toward her desk and stopped, her heart giving an uncomfortable thump.

Someone stood at her desk. Not just someone—a man, Englisch, young. He wore jeans and a tight black T-shirt, and he was as out of place in an Amish schoolroom as a zebra in a henhouse.

“What are you doing here?” Nervousness lent an edge to her voice.

“Just wanted to see what the school looked like. Nothing wrong with that, is there?” His bold eyes swept over her, studying her body in a way that made her want to hold something up to shield herself from his gaze.

Sara pushed down a momentary panic. There were people, plenty of them, just a shout away. Nothing could happen to her in her own schoolroom with half the residents of Beaver Creek nearby.

“The school is closed to visitors today.” She made her voice firm. “I’ll have to ask you to step outside.”

He sauntered toward her, his gaze never shifting. “Well, now, that’s not very friendly, is it?”

“The school is closed,” she repeated. She took a step back and bumped into a desk. Was it time to call out now, before he got any closer? She edged her way around the desk, feeling behind her for the door.

He smiled, as if he knew she was afraid and enjoyed it. “I know lots of ways to get friendly with a pretty girl like you.” He moved to within arm’s reach, and only the conviction that it would be a mistake to turn her back on him kept her from running.

“Get out of my schoolroom.” She would not panic. If she made a scene... Her mind shuddered away from the thought. It would be another black mark against her in Silas’s book—that was certain sure.

“Your schoolroom? So I guess that makes you the teacher, huh? Bet I could teach you some things.”

He reached toward her, and panic slipped her control. She drew in a breath to scream.

FOUR

Caleb’s first censorious thought at finding Teacher Sara alone in the school with an Englischer vanished when he saw the fear in her face. “What is going on?” He reached them in a few long strides, impelled by an alarming surge of protectiveness.

“Sara.” He moved between them, forcing the other man to take a step back. He focused on Sara’s strained face. “Was ist letz?”

Sara took a breath, some of the color coming back into her face. “I found this man in the schoolroom. He doesn’t want to leave.”

And he had frightened her. Caleb could read between the lines. Had he threatened her?

He fixed his glare on the man—hardly more than a teenager, but hardly an innocent. The way he’d been looking at Sara gave Caleb an urge to douse his head in the nearest water pail.

“Go. Now.” He didn’t waste words.

The stranger took another step back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. A flicker of bravado showed in his expression.

“I heard tell the Amish don’t hit back. So how you gonna make me?”

“That’s true enough.” And he’d never had such a longing to break that taboo. “But there are plenty of Englisch outside who’d be glad to help us out.”

He didn’t bother to repeat his command. He stared until the man’s gaze fell.

“Just having a little fun.” His voice had taken on a whine. “That’s all.” He swaggered out the door, the effect ruined by the speed at which he disappeared.

Caleb turned to Sara, overcome with the need to comfort her. “Are you all right? You’re safe now. He’s gone.”

She shook her head, turning toward him in an instinctive gesture, so that it seemed the most natural thing in the world to put his arm around her.

“It’s all right,” he said softly, just as he would soothe Rachel. “Nothing can hurt you now.”

Sara gave a watery chuckle. “Ach, I must be ferhoodled to let the likes of that one upset me so.” She drew back, as if aware of his arm around her.

He squeezed her arm in reassurance and let his hand fall, taking a step away. “It was sensible to be afraid, finding a stranger in here. Did he threaten you?”

She shook her head. “I don’t suppose he meant any harm. He was just showing off, most likely.”

Caleb’s thoughts were busy with the man’s reasons for being in the schoolroom, of all places. “Did you know him?”

Sara shook her head. “You don’t think I’d be friends with someone like that, do you?”

“I’m glad to see your spirit is back.” Although he couldn’t help but think Sara might be safer with a little less of that quality.

“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “The kinner. Where are they? You didn’t leave them on their own?”

“The girls are fine. Your brother and his wife took them to get funnel cakes. That’s what I was coming to tell you.” He hesitated. “Are you going to tell Chief O’Brian about what happened here?”

“I didn’t think of that.” The color came up in her cheeks again. “He said to tell him about anyone hanging around the school. I suppose I must.”

He thought he understood her embarrassment. The Englischer had said something offensive to her—something she probably didn’t want to repeat.

“Ya, I think you should talk to him,” he said firmly.

Sara looked at him with a challenge in her green eyes. “That’s a turnaround for you, isn’t it?”

He stiffened. “It’s an entirely different thing. My Rachel is a child, already having a difficult enough time of it. You’re a grown woman.” A fact of which he was uncomfortably aware.

Sara didn’t speak, but he could see the stubborn disagreement in her face. Well, maybe that was a good thing. It would encourage him to keep his guard up with her.

* * *

By the time school started on Monday morning, Sara still hadn’t talked to Chief O’Brian about her unwelcome visitor. Well, it wasn’t her doing, was it? He’d left the auction by the time she went in search of him, and she could hardly seek out the police on the Sabbath. She’d have to do it, and soon, but at the moment, she needed to deal with all the chatter going on in her schoolroom.

She stood, and the buzzing stopped when she looked at her scholars, but she saw suppressed excitement on several faces. Well, maybe some serious schoolwork would get their thoughts off gossip, which she didn’t doubt had been flying around the valley since Friday.

“We’ll begin with reading for first and second graders,” she announced, and the little ones obediently began pulling their desks into a circle. “Seventh and eighth graders will work on their written reports.”

There were some sighs from the older boys, who’d rather do almost anything than write a report.

She went on to assign each of the other grades to work on arithmetic or practice spelling words, and then she sat down with the small group of the youngest scholars. The room was quiet except for the scratching of pencils and the murmur of spelling words as the third graders quizzed one another.

Concentrating on the eager little ones was a good antidote for her worries. She loved seeing their faces light up when they sounded out a new word or read a complete sentence in Englisch.

A teacher’s sixth sense presently told Sara that something was wrong with the background noises. She looked toward the back of the room to discover that Lily was not only not working on her report, she was out of her chair and hanging over Johnny Stultzfus’s desk, whispering away.

“Lily!” Sara’s sharp tone had every pair of eyes in the room focused on her. “You will take your seat immediately, and you will also write one hundred times I will not chatter in class. Is that understood?”

Lily, her pretty face set in a pout, nodded.

She was justified, Sara told herself, but she hated to see all of her students looking at her with such dismay.

Relenting, she went to lean against her desk. “All right. Tell me what is so fascinating to all of you that you can’t concentrate on your work.”

“Please, Aunt Sara.” Becky remembered to raise her hand, but she forgot, as always, that she was supposed to call her aunt Teacher Sara in the classroom. “Everyone is talking and wondering about the man who fell off the cliff.”

“Did he really jump?” Johnny’s question exploded out of him before she could react to Becky. “I heard he had a parachute.”

“Not a parachute, dummy.” Adam Weaver, seated next to him, gave him a light punch on the arm. “Nobody could use a parachute off a cliff.”