Taken for English (10 page)

“I see,” Joseph said. “Our needs would be simple, of course.
Guder mariye
, Miss Woodley.” Good morning.

“I trust you rested well.”

The pleasantry in Miss Woodley’s eyes seemed sincere. Perhaps with some reflection overnight she decided that Zeke and Joseph were no threat to the fragile peace of Gassville.

A ruckus in front of the store drew Zeke and a few others to the window.

“It’s Twigg!” someone called out.

“That does not look like a man with all his wits,” Zeke said.

Joseph glanced at Miss Woodley, who gripped the edge of the counter with hands covered in white gloves.

“Does he have a gun?” The question came from Lee Denton, behind the counter.

Zeke shook his head. “I don’t see one.”

Joseph would have preferred Zeke to stay out of whatever was about to happen. There would be no explaining this to the bishop.

“He’s standing in the middle of the street with his arms crossed,” Zeke reported.

“He could be hiding a gun,” Lee Denton said.

When the voice boomed from the street, Joseph startled.

“Denton, you fool!” hollered John Twigg. “You are hiring people to steal from my store so you can sell those goods yourself. You idiots! Did you think I would not figure it out?”

Joseph moved toward Zeke, wanting to pull him back. In the process, he glimpsed John Twigg, bareheaded and—as far as Joseph could see—unarmed. His face flamed with fury.

Maura heard voices outside yelling back at John Twigg, but she could not tell whose. If she got her hands on whoever was inciting John, she would throttle the culprit. A person would have to be half-insane to take up with John.

The man had lost all sense of reason. He was not always like this. Belle had been enamored of John for so long that she refused to acknowledge the turn in him. Maura worried what might become of Belle if she really did marry John Twigg.

“What happened to Walter?” someone asked.

Maura’s stomach lurched, and she released her grip on the counter to turn and face the commotion. “He was sweeping the sidewalk out there a few minutes ago.”

“Well, I don’t see him now.”

Before she could move to the front of the store to look out the window for herself, a
click
behind the counter made her gasp.

The sound of a shooter readying a pistol.

Lee and Ing Denton both stood behind the counter of their emporium with pistols in their hands.

“What are you doing?” she demanded. “That will not solve anything.”

“If he has a gun, we have to be ready,” Lee said.

“You already asked if he had a gun,” Maura said. “Mr. Berkey informs us he does not.”

Lee shook his head. “He said he did not see one. That’s not the same.”

Another
click
. Another pistol cocked.

“Ing, no.” Maura slapped the counter. “This is not the way.”

“He’s the crazy man.” Ing Denton nudged his brother out from behind the counter. Lee cocked a third pistol and led the way with a gun in each hand. Ing followed with his. Customers stepped back to clear their path to the front of the store.

Maura swallowed hard and followed them. “Has anyone spotted Walter?” She stumbled on the hem of her skirt and looked down at her shoes.

In that moment, the shots rang out.

“It’s Walter!” a woman cried. “They’ve shot Walter in the heart.”

Joseph pushed past Lee and Ing and Zeke and even Miss Woodley, oblivious to danger now, and saw Walter run past the front of the store with his hand over his chest. The boy reminded him of his younger brother, Little Jake, both gangly and fair haired, and his protective instinct kicked in.

He grabbed Walter, who was bellowing now. If the boy was screaming and running, Joseph wondered, how badly could he be hurt? Yet blood spurted between the fingers clasped over his chest.

“Make him lie down.” The instruction came from Miss Woodley, but Joseph agreed. The gunshots had stopped, and even if they had not, Joseph would not abandon Miss Woodley and Walter at a time of need. Being a person of peace did not mean withholding compassion.

It was easy enough to lay Walter on the sidewalk he had been sweeping only moments ago. Maura Woodley knelt beside the boy on the other side.

“We must move his hand and see the damage.” Maura’s face crunched in on itself.

Walter was still thrashing his legs, but he offered no resistance when Joseph moved to pry the boy’s fingers apart. Beneath them, he found no wound.

Then Maura held the fingers of Walter’s left hand. “Why, he’s been hit in the knuckles.”

Joseph wiped the boy’s knuckles with his shirtsleeve then leaned back on his heels and expelled his pent-up breath. “It looks a lot worse than it is.”

“Thank you. You risked your life for my cousin.”

Joseph drank in her dark eyes for the first time. All he could think of was that he hoped someone would have done the same for Little Jake. He grabbed his shirt at the shoulder seam and yanked. The sleeve came loose, and he wrapped it around Walter’s bleeding hand.

“He should see the doctor,” Maura said, her hands helping to wrap her cousin’s fingers.

“Of course.” Joseph looked up and down the street. “Which way?”

Zeke was suddenly behind him. “I know the way.”

Ezekiel Berkey had not been in Gassville any longer than Joseph Beiler, but at the moment Joseph was glad for Zeke’s propensity to snoop wherever he went. Joseph’s eyes settled on John Twigg, and he pointed. “Someone should help him, too.”

John Twigg lay in the street, bleeding from his head like a stuck pig.

“I’ll go for the doctor.” Zeke scooped up Walter and put him on his feet. “Follow me, Joseph.”

“Why did they shoot me?” Walter asked. “And I know where the doctor is better than strangers.”

“Just go, Walter,” Maura said. “Let them look after you. Don’t worry about John Twigg right now.”

“I’ve seen enough hog butcherings,” Walter said, “to know that a mad animal takes a long time to die. John Twigg is gonna be like that, I just know.”

“Hush, Walter.” Maura turned to Joseph. “If Doc Denton is not in his office, try Dr. Lindsay. He’s farther away, though.”

“I saw his shingle,” Mr. Berkey said.

“Hurry!”

Two strangers, whom she had suspected of ill will only yesterday, had custody of Walter. The boy would be fine. For John Twigg’s sake, though, Maura hoped Mr. Berkey knew the town as well as he claimed. Around the angry shopkeeper, a few people had realized the severity of his wound and stood and pointed. No one stepped forward to help him, and neither did Maura. No human being, not even John Twigg, deserved Walter’s comparison to a hog butchering. But no one could help him—perhaps not even one of the doctors—and nothing Maura did would change that.

The street fell silent as the crowd realized that the Denton-Twigg feud had taken a fatal twist.

It was Belle Mooney that worried Maura now.

A
re you sure?” Outside his hardware store on Main Street on Tuesday morning, Tom Reynolds crossed his arms, puzzled.

Annie answered without hesitation. “I’ll pay you twice your usual rate for taxi service.”

Tom waved the offer away. “That’s not necessary. If you’ve made up your mind, I’ll take you.”

“I promise not to tie up your time for a minute longer than necessary.” Annie straightened the bib of her black apron. “Do you know where the Deitwaller farm is?”

“I have a vague idea.”

“Good enough for me.”

“I’ll pull my truck around.”

They found the farm thirty minutes later. Annie scanned for signs that someone was home. The land was farther out and more isolated than the Beilers’, reminding Annie that most of the Amish in Custer County were farther from town. The day called for no scheduled sewing or quilting gatherings among the women, so unless Eva Deitwaller was making a visit, she would be home. As Tom eased his red pickup to a stop outside the home, Annie saw the family’s buggy parked at the edge of the yard.

“You can still change your mind,” Tom said.

Annie shook her head. “Wait here, please. I won’t be long.”

She approached the front door, set her jaw, and knocked.

Mrs. Deitwaller came to the screen door.

“Hello,” Annie said. “I wonder if I might come in and talk to you.” Amish hospitality would make it difficult for Eva to send her away. For extra assurance, Annie raised a hand to the door handle. Eva complied by unlatching the hook and eye.

Annie tried not to glance around the front room in too curious a manner. The invitation to sit that she hoped for did not come, so she held her hands together calmly and determined not to sound aggressive.

“I wondered if Leah is home,” Annie said. “I thought I might invite her to visit the Beilers with me. They have daughters around her age.”

“We know who the Beilers are.” Mrs. Deitwaller pulled a dish towel off her shoulder and wiped her hands.

“Yes, of course. Sophie and Lydia are lovely girls. I thought Leah might enjoy spending more time with them.”

“Well, she’s not here.”

“Oh?” Annie’s fingers twitched. “Perhaps I could leave a note.”

Mrs. Deitwaller shrugged. “If you’re fishing to know whether Leah has come home, you can stop right there. She hasn’t.”

Annie tried to look sympathetic. “You must be concerned about her.”

“She’s a headstrong child. Always has been.”

“But…where is she staying? You must be wondering if she is safe.”

“No need to tell me what I must be wondering.”

Annie’s right forefinger began to tap. “I’m sure if the two of you sat down and talked about your differences, you could find a way through them.”

“Just what do you know of our differences?”

Annie moistened her lips. “I know Leah was…unenthusiastic about the move to Colorado.”

“We’re her parents. We know what’s best for her.”

Annie’s tongue formed sounds faster than she could stop it now. “Leah has been gone more than a week. Isn’t it best for her to be somewhere safe, with people who care for her, who will listen to her?”

Even under Eva Deitwaller’s long dress, Annie saw her shoes move to shoulder width apart. One hand went to a hip.

“I’ll thank you not to come in here with your
English
ways,” Mrs. Deitwaller said. “You’re barely baptized.”

Annie’s spine straightened. “I gave a lot of thought and prayer to my baptism.”

“What I hear is that you give a lot of thought to Rufus Beiler.”

Warmth rose through Annie’s face. “I was baptized because I want to be Amish. Because God called me to be Amish.”

“You don’t have any idea what you are getting into.” Eva scoffed.

Balled into fists, Annie’s hands moved to her sides, where she hid them in the folds of her skirt. “That’s not true. I studied with the bishop. I worship regularly with the congregation.”

“Yes, well, time will tell. But when it comes to Leah, you know nothing. She lives in her imagination. You have no idea what kind of trouble she is capable of causing.”

“She seems quite sincere to me,” Annie said. “She certainly is of an age to fall in love and think about her future.”