A Sister's Hope (21 page)

Ruth nodded and reached for her cup. “You’re right, Mom. We all need to focus on the positive things.”

“Danki for helping me fix the fence,” Dad said, smiling at Martha. “Since I have no sons, it’s nice to have a daughter who’s not afraid to get her hands dirty.”

“Jah, that’s me—Martha the tomboy.”

“So, how was your morning, and where all did you go?” Dad asked, as they moved away from the fence.

“My morning was fine. Since most of the snow has melted, the roads were good. I did a little shopping, and then I went out to lunch.” Martha was careful not to mention who she’d had lunch with.

“I’m glad you were able to get away for a while. You spend too much time around here with those hundlin of yours.”

“I like spending time with my dogs.”

“I know, but you’re a young woman and need to be thinking of
finding a suitable mate so you can marry and raise a family. Don’t you agree?”

Martha shrugged. There was no way she could tell her father that she’d already found someone she’d like to marry. Dad would ask who, and if she told him it was Luke, she was certain he would become angry and forbid her to see Luke again. Of course she wasn’t really seeing Luke in a boyfriend-girlfriend sort of way. They were just friends trying to solve a mystery together.

“Guess I’d better get going,” Dad said, pulling Martha out of her musings. “Ray Larson’s driving me to Millersburg right after lunch so I can get some supplies I need. I’d better get back to the barn and lay some things out for Cleon to do while I’m gone.” He turned and started walking away. “Are you coming?”

“It’s not as cold today as it has been. I think I’ll go for a walk, but I’ll head for the house soon.”

“Jah, okay,” he said with a wave.

Martha was glad Dad had given no objection to her taking a walk. She wanted to snoop around a bit and see if she could find anything that might give some clue as to who had cut the fence.

She walked along slowly, checking the stubble of grass sticking through the clumps of melting snow. Several feet from the fence, in a cluster of bushes, she spotted a worn-looking glove.

“Hmm, what have we here?” She bent to pick up the glove.

“What’s that you’re holding?”

Startled by the deep voice behind her, Martha jumped up and whirled around. There stood Luke, holding his camera. “You. . .you scared me.”

“Sorry about that.” Luke glanced around with an anxious expression. “Your daed’s not anywhere nearby, I hope.”

She shook her head. “He was here a few minutes ago—fixing our fence that someone cut.”

“I heard about it.”

“Who told you?”

Luke’s face colored. “I’d just gotten home from having lunch with you, and when I stepped into the house, I heard your mamm and my
mamm talking in the kitchen. When your mamm said your fence had been cut, I decided to hightail it over here and do a little investigating.” He gazed at the fence. “Which part was cut?”

“Right here.” Martha moved over to stand by the fence and pointed to the spot her father had fixed.

Luke lifted his camera and took a picture; then he turned to Martha and said, “Did you find that glove somewhere nearby?”

She nodded. “Found it in the bushes right before you showed up.”

“Mind if I have a look-see?”

She handed him the glove.

“Looks like a work glove to me. I’m guessing whoever cut the fence must have dropped the glove when they were running away.”

“That’s what I figured, too,” Martha said with a nod. “Do you think we should keep the glove or tell the sheriff about it?”

He shook his head. “Like I said at lunch, I’m not sure he can be trusted. Besides, we have no definite evidence as to who the attacker might be, so I think it’s best that we keep all the evidence we find to ourselves. Don’t you?”

“I suppose. If we get more evidence and decide the sheriff doesn’t have anything to do with the attacks, we can turn everything we’ve found over to him.”

Luke nodded, handed the glove back to her, and snapped another picture.

“Do you really think that’s going to do any good?”

Luke shrugged. “You never know. The other glove might show up somewhere. If it does, I’ll know who it belongs to.”

“But if we keep the glove, we won’t need a picture of it.”

“Good point.” He grinned. “Guess I’m not real good at this detective thing yet. Maybe the camera was a dumb idea.”

“It was a good thought,” Martha was quick to say, “but I really don’t think taking pictures will help that much.” She tucked the glove under the band of her apron. “Guess I’d better keep this in a safe place for now.”

“Did you check for footprints?”

She shook her head. “I haven’t gotten that far yet.”

“Then let’s do it now.”

Martha and Luke spent the next several minutes scrutinizing the area around the part of the fence that had been cut. “There’s the print of my sneaker,” Martha said, pointing to the footprints her shoes had made. “And there are some boot prints, but I can’t be sure whether they were made by the person who cut the fence or by my daed.” She grunted and slapped the side of her head. “Guess I should have thought to look for footprints before Dad and I started working on the fence.”

“Where are you gonna put the glove?” Luke asked.

“Probably in the hayloft where I hid the wrench.”

“Are you sure no one will find it there?”

She nodded. “It’s in a box under a mound of hay where the cats like to sleep. Dad keeps all the hay he needs for feeding the horses in one side of the barn, so he really has no reason to go into the hayloft for anything right now.”

“Okay. I’d better go. Can we meet somewhere soon to discuss things more?” Luke asked.

Martha’s heartbeat picked up speed, the way it always did whenever she thought about spending time with Luke. “I have next Saturday off.”

“Where do you want to meet?”

“How about Heini’s Cheese? That’s a public place, and if someone sees us, they’ll figure we just met there accidentally and are talking. Would two o’clock work for you?”

Luke smiled and nodded. “I’ll see you at Heini’s then.”

As Roman and Ray drove through Millersburg in Ray’s station wagon that afternoon, they passed the newspaper office. It made Roman think about Gary Walker and the article he’d written. He had threatened to have a talk with Gary about the things he’d written that weren’t true. Maybe this was the time to make good on his threat.

He turned to Ray and said, “Would you mind dropping me off at the newspaper office?”

Ray blinked. “I thought you wanted to go to the Wal-Mart store.”

“I do, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to run into the newspaper office first. I have something I need to take care of there.”

“Sure, no problem.” Ray pulled over to the curb. “This a no-parking zone, so I’ll drive around the block a few times, and when I see you standing out front, I’ll pick you up. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds good to me.” Roman stepped out of the car and closed the door. Then he hurried up the steps and entered the building. He spotted a young woman sitting at a desk just inside the front door. “Excuse me, but is Gary Walker in his office today?”

The woman shook her curly blond head. “Gary Walker doesn’t work here anymore.”

“He—he doesn’t?”

“No. Gary took a job at a newspaper in Redding, California. He’s been gone for over a week.”

Roman heaved a sigh of relief. If Gary had been attacking them, the attacks would finally be over. If he wasn’t responsible, then it had to be some-one else on his list of suspects.

A
s Martha headed for the barn, a biting wind stung her cheeks, and huge flakes of snow landed on her woolen jacket.

When she stepped into the barn, she brushed the snow off her jacket and started for the kennels.

Woof! Woof!
Fritz bounded up to Martha, planting both paws on her knees.

“Fritz! What are you doing out of your cage again?” Martha gently pushed the dog to the floor.

The sheltie responded with another loud bark and a couple of wags of his tail.

“Come on, boy. Let’s get you back to your cage.” Martha headed in the direction of the kennels with Fritz at her side. When she arrived at his cage, she halted. The door hung wide open.

“I can’t believe this,” she groaned. “How are you managing to get that latch undone?”

Fritz stared up at her with sorrowful brown eyes and released a pathetic whimper. Was it possible that he’d figured out a way to open the door to his cage, or could someone have let the dog out on purpose? But if that were so, then why only Fritz and not the rest of her dogs?

Martha put Fritz back in his cage, closed the door, and waited to see what he would do. Fritz gave a friendly wag of his tail and scurried off to his doghouse.

“Of course you’re not going to do anything while I’m standing
here.” Anxious to finish her chores in the barn so she could speak to her father, Martha hurried through the feeding process. When that was done, she returned to the house.

“You’re right on time,” Mom said as Martha stepped into the kitchen. “I just started putting breakfast on the table. Since it’s so cold and snowy this morning, I fixed a big pot of oatmeal.”

Martha removed her coat and hung it on a wall peg near the back door. “That’s good to hear. I’m hungry and more than ready to eat.” She hurried across the room and washed her hands at the sink.

Dad looked up from where he sat, reading the morning newspaper. “How’d it go in the barn? Did you get the dogs all fed and watered?”

“The feeding went okay, but I found Fritz out of his cage again.” Martha flopped into the chair opposite him. “It makes no sense how he keeps getting out.”

“Did you close and latch the cage doors last night?” Mom asked.

“Jah, of course. I even checked them twice to be sure.”

“Maybe Fritz has figured out a way to unlatch his door.” Dad folded his paper and set it aside. “Some animals, even the smaller breeds, can be real clever when it comes to things like that.”

“Fritz may be clever, but he’s never gotten out of his cage until recently.”

“Here’s the oatmeal,” Mom announced.

As soon as Mom was seated at the table and their silent prayer was done, Martha said, “I’m thinking of sleeping in the barn for a couple of nights.”

“Why would you want to do that?” Mom asked.

“So I can keep an eye on things—see how Fritz is getting out of his cage.”

“That’s just plain
narrisch
. It’s too cold to be sleeping in the barn,” Dad said with furrowed brows.

“Your daed’s right; sleeping in the barn in the dead of winter would be a foolish thing to do,” Mom agreed.

“But I’ve got to find out if Fritz is escaping on his own or if someone is sneaking into our barn during the night and letting him out.”

Mom blinked a couple of times. “You think someone’s doing it on purpose?”

“Don’t be
lecherich,”
Dad said. “I’ve been locking the barn at night, so there’s no way someone could be sneaking in. Besides, I’ve got a hunch we don’t have to worry about being under attack anymore.”

“What makes you think that?” Martha asked.

“When Ray and I were in Millersburg yesterday, I had him drop me off at the newspaper so I could talk to Gary Walker about that article he wrote about you and your kennel business.”