Where Grace Abides (9 page)

Doc's dry words snapped Gant back to his surroundings. “That obvious, eh?”

“Beiler isn't easily put off, but Rachel has a strong will of her own.

I don't think you need to worry about the deacon. He's no farther along with her than he's ever been, and I don't see that changing.”

An uncharacteristically sour look crossed Doc's features. “I expect I should count it as good luck for me that he didn't decide to court
Susan.
He's a lot closer to her age than to Rachel's, after all.”

“Somehow I don't think he'd pose a problem for you,” Gant told him. “Your bride-to-be seems unaware entirely of any other man on the premises so long as you're around.”

Doc's smile was nothing short of boyish. “I need to get going. Why don't you go along with our group to search for the horses? It's just Gideon, Reuben, Malachi, and myself. We're taking Malachi's wagon. If that big Percheron of Susan's happens to be hurt, it could take more than one or two men to bring him in.”

Gant nodded, casting one more look in Rachel's direction and drawing a satisfied breath when he saw Beiler walk away from her. He hesitated only another instant before following Doc across the yard to where Malachi Esch and the others were climbing onto the wagon.

 
10
 
D
ARK
M
EMORIES

The heart that has truly loved never forgets.

T
HOMAS
M
OORE

T
hey found the horses a few hours later in an abandoned barn about three miles from the Kanagy farm. The animals were anxious and unsettled but seemingly unharmed.

Before leaving Susan's place, Gant had given his dog, Mac, a chance to sniff around the stalls and the paddock. It was Mac who alerted them to the dilapidated barn where they found the horses.

They had no trouble taking the animals home. Gideon and Reuben Esch each rode one of the buggy horses bareback, leading the big Percheron along with them, while Mac trotted in front of them, as if to make certain they reached their destination.

In the wagon Doc turned to Gant and said, “Are you thinking what I'm thinking, given that no harm was done to those horses?”

Gant nodded. “It was nothing more than harassment. They had no intention of hurting those animals to begin with.”

“That's how I see it,” Doc agreed. “This was just another way to trouble some of the Amish.”

Gant thought about that. “You don't believe they singled Susan out for any particular reason other than the fact that she's Amish?”

Doc rubbed his chin. “I don't, no. But then I don't
want
to think
that way. What they did was cruel but not quite so threatening as if it were personal.”

Again Gant gave a nod, but another thought distracted him. “You keep saying ‘they.' So you're thinking there was more than one person involved?”

“Don't you? Running off three horses—especially given Cecil's size—seems like the work of more than one fellow.”

“Probably. Though someone used to horses could likely get the job done without any help, don't you think?”

Doc looked at Gant. “You believe that's the case?”

“No, not really. Just considering the possibilities.”

Doc was quiet for a moment. “I wonder if I don't tend to see this as the work of more than one because of what happened to Fannie.”

“Because there were four of them, you mean?”

Doc nodded. “There's no reason to believe this was the work of those same boys, of course. Yet it's easy to suspect them.”

“It is. If that's the case, though, you have to wonder why they didn't hurt the horses. What they did to Fannie was nothing short of assault.”

Something about the apparent lack of any ill-treatment to the animals bothered Gant. There wasn't time to dwell on it, however. The Kanagy farm was well in sight by now, and no doubt everyone would be waiting for any news.

He was glad for Susan's sake—and Rachel's—that the news, at least for now, would be good.

Throughout the week ahead, when Rachel remembered that night she was almost ashamed to realize that the thought of what
could
have happened to Mamma's horses disturbed her less than the feelings Jeremiah's return to her life had evoked.

That's how she tended to think of seeing him again, that he had
returned to her life. Not that he'd ever really been absent from it. Even though they hadn't seen each other for some time, he had never really been out of her thoughts. But seeing him had shaken her far more than she liked to admit.

Now he was real to her all over again, a larger presence than her memories recalled, a stronger force with his intense gaze and easy smile. And his absence after he'd gone away again that night had left her bereft, as if a cold wind of abandonment had swept through her heart, leaving it dark and desolate.

He was the last thought on her mind before she drifted off into an often uneasy sleep and her first thought when she awakened. In the days that followed, the memory of him gave her no rest. When she heard the clip-clop of a horse on the road, she instinctively went to the window to look out. And if someone stepped onto her porch, she caught her breath as she opened the door, halfway hoping she would find him standing there, yet at the same time, dismayed by the awareness that if it
were
him, the right thing to do—according to the bishop and the leaders of the church—would be to turn him away because he was
verboten
—forbidden—to her.

She knew she
must
stop thinking about him, stop wanting to see him so badly that at times it became an ache in her heart. And yet her thoughts were all she had left of him. How could she bear to give them up?

When the bishop refused to allow Jeremiah's conversion, thereby shutting the door to any possibility they could ever marry, it was as if a light had gone out in her heart. After Eli, her husband, died, she plodded through the days and weeks and months almost like a blind woman making her way through the thick darkness of night. But Jeremiah had changed all that. His understanding, his gentleness, his sense of humor—all that he was—had, little by little, managed to lift the fog of depression from her days. Their friendship, slow growing as it was, had become a sure and steady light that gradually warmed to love.

Now the darkness was back, and this time it was even worse. Not only had she lost the first man she'd ever loved, but she'd had to give up the second, and somehow—though she hated to admit it even to herself—it seemed harder than it had been with Eli. She thought that might be because Jeremiah was still alive, still nearby. At times, like the night the horses were stolen, she still saw him, still talked with him, felt his gaze on her face, his eyes looking into her soul.

He was too…
present.
Too close. Too real. There was no escaping him.

And yet if she were to keep her sanity—and at the same time remain true to her faith and the church—she
must
escape him. She had to put him out of her life, out of her thoughts, out of her heart.

The question was
how.

 
11
 
C
RAVING
J
USTICE

Thy will—it bids the weak be strong,
It bids the strong be just.

J
OHN
H
AY

O
ver the next few days, Gant noted young Gideon's obvious preoccupation. The boy was still clearly upset about the ordeal with his mother's stolen horses.

Not that his work in the shop suffered. Gideon had proven himself to be conscientious. He gave a good day's work, even showed promise as a potential carpenter, although Gant suspected his interests didn't particularly lie in that direction. His work was as good as ever, but there was a tension about him that almost hummed with anger—a subtle but steady kind of anger that never seemed far from the surface.

His hand was heavier and quicker than usual no matter what he was doing. A tight frown seldom went away—he hadn't smiled in days—and he was quieter than was usually his way. Almost every attempt to engage him in even the most casual conversation fell flat.

Of course, there hadn't been much opportunity for small talk of late, it being a particularly busy time in the shop. They'd had so much business that orders were beginning to pile up, an uncomfortable situation for Gant. He liked keeping the work moving without a lot of backlog.

On the other hand, he was grateful for the business. Asa had
volunteered his help, and Gant didn't hesitate to take him up on the offer. But Asa wouldn't be around much longer. Two “passengers” for the Railroad were hiding right now in Gant's barn, and Asa would be leaving with them soon. He always liked to wait for a good cloudy night to increase the cover of darkness before starting out. But Gant could tell he was getting anxious and would be going soon, with or without clouds.

Like most other days, this morning had gone by quickly, with business brisk as usual. By afternoon lunchtime had gone by with none of them having stopped to eat. Finally Gant sent Gideon for food, and when he returned, the three of them took a break at the table in the back room.

Following his last few bites, Gant downed the rest of his milk, all the while watching Gideon, who had eaten little. “You heard anything from your mother this week?” he said.

“Not so far,” the boy replied. “I suppose everything is all right, or I'd have had word.”

“I heard the law is asking around, trying to find out who might have been behind the theft of the horses,” said Gant.

Gideon sneered. “That won't come to anything.”

Gant looked at him. “Why do you say that?”

“The
Englisch
don't much care what happens to the Amish.”

“I don't suppose that's true for all of us,” Gant said mildly. “Seems to me your people have some good friends among the outside world. How about Doc Sebastian?”

The boy gave a short nod, but his expression was grudging. “Doc's different. Besides, he's soon to be Amish himself.”

“True enough, but he was a friend to the Amish long before now,” Gant replied. “Speaking of Doc, if you see him before I do, how about asking him to stop by and have a visit with Mrs. Sawyer? Terry was around early this morning, when I was just opening up. He's worried about her. The baby is due anytime now, and their trip was a hard one. He said she's not feeling a bit well.”

“Has he found a job yet?” Gideon asked.

“Nothing so far. Things are hard in Riverhaven right now, but besides that anyone who knows that Sawyer is only looking for something temporary, until he gets enough money together to move on to Indiana, isn't likely to want to hire him.”

Gideon stood and began to gather his leftovers. “I'll talk to Doc. I'll probably go out to the farm over the weekend. No doubt he'll be around.”

Gant watched him. “You're all right with his marrying your mother, aren't you?”

“Sure. Doc's a good man. He makes Mamm happy. Besides, I'll be glad to see she and Fannie aren't out there by themselves anymore, especially after this last trouble.”

Gant turned to Asa to explain. “Doc Sebastian—you remember him? He's joining the Amish church, and he and Gideon's mother are getting married this November.”

“I remember the doctor—and Mrs. Kanagy as well,” Asa said. “They took good care of you when you were wounded.”

“Aye, they did. And I'm properly grateful to the both of them.”

Gideon left then, taking the remains of his lunch to the trash barrel outside.

“Young Gideon is troubled,” Asa said.

Gant nodded. “He's torn. He's determined to find out who's harassing his people but doesn't really know where to start. Last winter four boys jumped his little sister, Fannie, and tormented her to the point of being hurt. She fell into a ditch and ended up with a head injury, not to mention being badly frightened. Now this latest thing with the horses. The Amish don't believe in fighting back, of course, but Gideon is no longer living Amish.”

“Has he left his people for good?”

“I suppose that remains to be seen. He's got an English—that's how they call anyone who's not Amish—girlfriend, but he hardly ever mentions her, so I'm thinking it's not all that serious. It seems
to me that the main reason he left home is because he has a problem with the Amish way of nonresistance. He wants to protect his people, but he worries that they'll always be in danger unless at some point they start to fight back.” He paused. “What worries me is that he'll end up getting hurt himself.”

“He seems like a good boy, with a good head on his shoulders.”

“Aye, though I suppose it's time I quit thinking of him as a boy. He's soon to turn twenty years old, and can do a full day's work as well as any man—better than some. Even so, he tends to be a bit hotheaded at times, so I'm hoping he doesn't do anything foolish.”

Asa smiled a little. “What?”

“Nothing,” said Asa, with a small shake of his head.

“You're thinking I'm a hothead myself.”

“Not at all, Captain.”

“Yes, you were. And I won't argue the point. I can be.”

Asa looked directly at him. “Perhaps at times. But I've never known you to be foolish. We'll hope young Gideon learns to apply wisdom to his quest for justice.”

Gant arched an eyebrow. “Sometimes you talk like a poet.”

The other's reply was a silent shrug and the same small smile.

After he closed up the shop for the day, Gant rode out to Jonah Weatherly's farm. Jonah had been in the day before and let drop a tidbit of information that interested Gant, and he'd decided then and there to pay Jonah a visit.

An hour later he left the Weatherly place and started for Riverhaven.

Up until the night Susan Kanagy's horses had been stolen, he'd been uncertain as to just what kind of a reception he might receive
from Rachel's mother. That night, though, he'd found her response to him as kind and accepting as ever, so he felt reasonably comfortable that he wouldn't be entirely unwelcome should he drop in for a few minutes.

Besides, he had a perfectly legitimate reason for stopping by.

He glanced back at the basket behind him and gave it a tug to make sure it was secure.

Gideon Kanagy was saving his wages for a horse. He needed a good riding horse if he was ever going to be able to make a worthwhile search for the fellows who were tormenting the People—possibly the same ones who had hurt Fannie.

He stopped at the edge of the boardwalk, looking out across the road. It was a slow time of day, with scarcely anyone to be seen other than a couple of business owners standing in the doorways of their shops, looking around. A man and a woman in Amish apparel climbed out of a buggy and went into the dry goods store. Meanwhile, a farm wagon pulled by a tired-looking bay lumbered down the road, leaving a trail of dust in its wake.

It occurred to him that, for all he knew, the ones troubling the Amish might be right here in Riverhaven. On the other hand, they could just as easily come from Marietta or one of the farm communities nearby. Without a ride he was hobbled from getting around well enough to search them out, even if he knew where to start.

He'd managed to save a fair sum so far and still give Mamm a part of his wages to help out at the farm. But he needed more if he was to buy himself a good, dependable animal, and he'd worked around horses enough through the years that he wasn't willing to settle for just any old nag to get him here and there. He'd have himself a good mount or none at all.

Captain Gant paid him more than a fair wage. Even so, he
wished he could think of a way to add to it. He'd hoped to have a horse before winter, but it was beginning to look doubtful.

Meanwhile, the no-goods who were bent on causing grief to the Amish were still out there—and no doubt still hatching their mean-spirited schemes to wreak even more trouble on the People. He had never been one for harboring anger—that much of the Amish way had stayed with him. Even though Dat had admonished him about his temper more than once during his growing-up years, he was quick to let things go and not allow them to fester.

But every time he thought of the attack on his little sister last year and now this recent bad business with Mamm's horses—not to mention the other troubles like the burning of Abe Gingerich's barn and the vandalism on Jacob Lape's buggies—he got almost sick with a kind of rage. Every instinct in him cried out for justice and the means to put an end to the harassment of his people.

He despised his own helplessness.

He started walking again, hating this feeling of being at odds with himself. He needed activity, needed something to do, yet there was nothing he really
wanted
to do.

Abby, his
Englisch
girlfriend, would be expecting him to come see her tonight, but he wasn't much in the mood for her company. Abby was all right, when he was in the right frame of mind. But really, they had little in common except a physical attraction for each other. And he was coming to realize that that might not be enough to sustain their relationship much longer.