River of Mercy (12 page)

Finally, with a heavy sigh, he retrieved the blanket from the floor and hunkered down for the duration.

“Kumm rei,”
Rachel said, her voice soft.

Her mother opened the door, waiting a moment before stepping inside. “Rachel? I just wanted to make sure you're all right before I go to bed.”

“I am, Mamma. I'm fine.”

In truth, she wasn't, but Rachel didn't want her mother to know how upset she still was. Her own night would almost certainly be sleepless, but her mother's didn't need to be.

“It's
gut
Captain Gant was with you tonight,” Mamma said, coming to sit beside her on the bed and taking her hand.

Rachel hesitated and then nodded.
“Ja,
I was grateful for his help.”

“He's a kind man.”

It was one of her mother's most often repeated comments about Jeremiah. In truth, it was a remark frequently applied to him by many of the People. Outsider though he was, he had come to be liked and respected by those who knew him. Had he not been an
Englischer,
no one in their Amish community would have been likely to frown on her marriage to Jeremiah.

But he was
Englisch
and therefore
verboten.

They could be friends only. Even then they weren't supposed to be alone together. But if they hadn't been together tonight, how would she have dealt with the ugly scene that had awaited her at her house? To have faced it by herself…

She shuddered. Her mother, obviously sensing her distress, clasped her hand more tightly. “Oh, daughter, I'm sorry this happened to you! But I'm so grateful to Captain Gant for bringing you here. You mustn't stay alone anymore, Rachel—not until all this trouble is finally over. You will stay with David and me until then.”

“I can't do that, Mamma. I have to take care of my house and my animals. I have things that need doing every day, and with Christmas coming I have pending orders for my birdhouses—”

“David and I will help you see to your work,” her mother broke in. “But I won't hear of you staying alone at night, Rachel. Not after what just happened.”

As much as Rachel dreaded even the idea of being alone right now, she knew she couldn't do what her mother was asking. Mamma and Dr. David were just beginning their new life together as husband and wife. They had their own home to maintain, their own lives to live. No, she couldn't, she wouldn't intrude on their marriage. They were so happy together. She would do nothing to interfere with that happiness.

She covered Mamma's hand with her own. “Let's not worry about that tonight. We both need to get some sleep. I'll be all right, Mamma. Really, I will.”

Her mother searched her eyes, finally releasing her hand and getting to her feet. “You're right, of course. But first thing tomorrow we'll talk with David—and Gideon, if he's here—and work things out so you won't be alone, at least until all this trouble is finally over. Are you sure you'll be able to rest now?”

Rachel stood, taking her mother by the shoulders. “I'm sure. I'm really tired, and I know you are too. You go on to bed. I'll be just fine.”

She watched as Mamma closed the bedroom door, listening until the sound of her footsteps died away at the end of the hall before sitting down again on the bed.

“Until all this trouble is finally over…”

Would it ever be over? What was it going to take for the People to finally be free of the harassment, the malice, the evil that seemed to be creeping in on them more and more, like a poisonous mist, threatening their community, their peace, their very lives?

Who was responsible for the other cruel acts that had occurred long before the breaking and entering of her house tonight—the barn fires, the theft of Mamma's horses, and all the other hateful deeds, including the attack on Fannie and Phoebe Esch's death?

True, Dr. David said Phoebe had most likely died of a heart attack and that her death might have been accidental. But he made no secret of the fact that he believed it had been brought on by fear, given Phoebe's disappearance and the condition in which they'd found her that awful night.

Rachel thought she could understand that kind of fear. She remembered all too vividly how frightened she'd been the night she and Eli were attacked, the night he was beaten to death.

And tonight…what if she had been at home when the intruder broke in? She hated to think about how terrified she surely would have been. The very thought made her cringe.

Was all this the work of one person? Her memory flashed back to the day Fannie had been attacked by a group of
Englischer
boys on the road not far from home. In the middle of the day, that was! They had always believed what happened to her younger sister to be the work of a rowdy group of boys, just a prank gone bad that could have ended up as a terrible tragedy if Jeremiah hadn't come upon the scene to rescue her.

Jeremiah. How often he appeared when help was needed. Rachel had heard the rumors that perhaps the
auslander
appeared
too
conveniently, that perhaps he was the one behind the trouble.

She didn't believe that for a minute. True, Jeremiah was a big man with a powerful way and an air of authority about him, but she knew in her deepest heart that he was also a kind and gentle man who would never hurt anyone or anything if he could help it.

She was thankful that those rumors finally seemed to have died. Even the few among the People who might have kept the vicious tales alive had apparently grown tired of the gossip and gone on to other murmurings and far-fetched ideas.

She sighed and with an effort got to her feet. A few minutes later, while she was changing for bed, she heard the soft splashing of rain against the windows and on the roof. Somehow the sound intensified the lonely ache stirring deep within her.

It was the same feeling she experienced each time she had to part from Jeremiah.

Gant grumbled under his breath at the rain just beginning to fall. Of course, it might not be such a bad night so long as the wind didn't turn wild. On the other hand, on this kind of November night in Ohio, the wind most likely would rise. In preparation, he closed the flaps on the buggy. He reached down and touched the oilcloth. He'd want it handy if he had to get out in the rain.

Given the weather, it wasn't likely that Rachel's intruder or intruders would come back yet tonight. Even so, he intended to stay put.

Who was the intruder? Or who were
they
?

It occurred to him that he'd seldom been inclined to think in terms of “they.” His mind had latched onto the likelihood that one person was behind the harassment of the Amish, and he couldn't seem to shake loose of his original conviction. Yet wasn't it likely that more than one was responsible, especially when it came to the death of Phoebe Esch? Could one person have managed to terrorize the poor woman into a heart attack? That was what Doc was convinced had happened.

Well, he supposed anything was possible. But likely?

He shook his head to clear it and rubbed a hand down his neck. In spite of being strung tight by Rachel's bad business earlier, he was tired. He didn't want to doze off.

Somewhere on the mountain behind him a cat screeched again. Closer this time. Strange. It almost sounded like
his
cat—the bobcat.

He
was
tired. Bobcats might be nocturnal, but he seriously doubted one would travel so far out in this kind of weather. Still, they did like to wander…

After a moment, he caught himself nodding off. He jolted awake, straightened, eased his shoulders, and yawned.

The cat screamed again, and a chill crept down his spine.

Sure, and it sounded like his cat.

Suddenly he caught a faint glimmer of light. Off to the side of Rachel's house, toward the back of her property, it flickered and then disappeared.

He watched, his eyes trained on the spot where he'd seen it.

Nothing.

The stand of oaks near her house could barely be seen. The night was one vast sheet of veiled darkness, a barren land braced for the first cold grip of winter.

His hand covering the gun on the seat beside him, Gant continued to keep watch as best he could through the pelting rain, but whatever he'd seen never reappeared.

He drew a deep breath and suppressed a cough, clearing his throat against the cold dampness.

It was going to be a long night.

11

“Good-bye,” I said to my conscience—
“Good-bye for aye and aye,”
And I put her hands off harshly,
And turned my face away.

P
AUL
L
AURENCE
D
UNBAR

T
he watcher doused his lantern, peering from beneath his hat into the woods across from Rachel Brenneman's house, but what with the darkness and the rain splashing off his hat, he could see nothing.

Had Gant seen him? Of course not. Not with the rain. And it was too dark. But what about the light from the lantern?

The minute he saw Gant pull into the woods, he cursed his own lack of foresight. He hadn't expected the man to return after taking Rachel to her mother's house. Instead he'd thought to have the rest of the night to complete what he'd begun.