Brightest and Best (33 page)

“
Daed
!”

Gideon looked over his shoulder at his daughters. “You listen to
Aunti
Miriam and do what she tells you to do.”

“Don’t worry about the children,” Fremont said. “We have a plan for them as well.”

“Miriam,” Gideon said, “send Tobias to town to find Mr. Eggar.”

“I’m afraid Tobias is not going into town,” Fremont said. He cocked his head toward the bus parked in front of the house.

The back door creaked open, steps crossed the kitchen, and Tobias appeared. Confusion clouded his eyes.

“Take care of the girls,” Gideon said. “Miriam, remember, Mr. Percival Eggar. He will know what to do.”

Ella helped James into the buggy and urged the horse to maximum speed. By the time they arrived at the Wittmer farm, only Miriam remained, tearful, leaning against a post on the front porch. She straightened when she saw James emerge from the buggy.

Ella took his elbow. “Are you sure you’re steady enough to walk?”

“What in the world happened to you?” Miriam came down the steps of the porch.

“I have to admit I’ve never had such a headache in all my life.” James divided his weight between Miriam and Ella until they got him settled in a chair on the porch. Miriam chipped ice off the block in the bottom of the icebox and wrapped it in a towel to press against her husband’s head.

“We’re too late, aren’t we?” James said.

“The sheriff’s officers took Gideon,” Miriam said, “and they took the children in a bus—all three of them.”

Ella’s heart thudded. In one afternoon, intuition had grown into fear, and fear into reality.

“Your father is on the list,” Miriam said.

“But the boys both have been going to school,” Ella said. “Seth has only been in my class since last week.”

“Before that, he wasn’t doing his homework. That’s negligence and delinquency according to the papers.”

“Show me,” James said.

Miriam produced the papers Gideon had left with her.

“Ella, you need to go,” James said.

“But you’re hurt,” Ella said, trying to look over James’s shoulder and scan the legal papers for herself.

“Take the buggy and go. Now.”

His tone mobilized Ella. She raced back out to Gideon’s buggy, picked up the reins, and clicked her tongue. The horse circled the yard to get turned before falling into a familiar trot up the lane.

Faster. We have to go faster.

The more she urged the horse, the more the buggy swayed. Finally she was at the final intersection, and she tugged the reins to make the turn.

Her father stood in the yard, twenty feet from the deputy’s automobile. Ella urged the horse to pull the buggy parallel to the vehicle.

“Gideon!”

Smudged glass separated them, but at the sound of Ella’s voice, Gideon turned toward her. Ella leaped out of the buggy.

“Step back.” The voice was male, deep, unyielding.

Ella looked up now and saw Seth being loaded into the bus she had seen on the main road. Gideon’s three children leaned out of the bus. Tobias had one arm around each sister. Ella ran to them, squeezing the girls’ outstretched hands.

“God is with you!” she said. “God will not leave you!”

“They’re taking your
daed,
” Seth shouted.

Ella spun around in time to see her father pushed into the waiting vehicle. At least neither Gideon nor Jed was alone.

The engines of both vehicles sparked and caught, and Ella was left with her father’s stunned wife trembling and falling back into her crumbling flower bed.

“It’s Ella,” Miriam said.

James took the bundle of melting ice off his forehead and followed his wife’s gaze out the wide front window.

“She brought Rachel with her,” Miriam said.

“She wouldn’t want to leave Rachel on her own,” James said.

Miriam opened the front door before Ella could knock and admitted the two guests.

“I was too late—again,” Ella said. “Deputy Fremont was already there.”

“So they’ve taken Jed?” Miriam said, gesturing that Ella and Rachel should sit.

“And Seth,” Rachel said. “I promised to put him back in their school if they would just leave him alone, but their minds were made up.”

“James, how is your head?” Ella peered at the bruising lump.

“Never mind my head,” James said. “I’m just sorry I couldn’t warn anyone. They could have hidden. If I’d just had a horse.”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference,” Ella said. “Even a horse could not have raced against an
English
automobile to get to all the farms.”

“But some of them might have hidden their children. I can think of a dozen places Tobias and the girls would have been safe.”

“Where have they taken them?” Rachel asked. “The men will go to jail. I understand that. But where will they take the children?”

James reached for the papers Gideon had left behind, shaking his head. “State custody. That’s all it says. I suppose they will go wherever neglected children go.”

“My son is not neglected!” Rachel moved to the edge of her seat.

“Neither are Gideon’s children,” Miriam said.

“We have to find out where they are,” Ella said.

“‘Mr. Eggar,’” Miriam said. “That’s the last thing Gideon said. Mr. Eggar will know what to do.”

“Ella, go find this Mr. Eggar,” Rachel urged. “Do you know where his office is?”

“Yes,” Ella said, “right on Main Street.”

James painfully shook his head. “He’s not there. I tried. The young man in his office did not expect him back before he closed the office at six.”

Ella studied the clock on the mantel. Chasing around half the county all afternoon had consumed more time than she anticipated. Dusk enveloped the house. “It’s past six now,” she said.

“Someone in town will know which house is his,” Rachel said. “You’ll just have to keep asking until you find someone who does. Start with Lindy, or that
English
teacher who lives on her street.”

Ella’s gaze went to James and Miriam. James was once again pressing ice to his forehead, and Miriam was ghastly pale.

“I will look after James and Miriam,” Rachel said.

“I don’t need looking after,” James protested.

“Neither do I,” Miriam said.

Ella met Rachel’s glance.

“I don’t want to wait alone,” Rachel said. “We’ll all want to know what Ella finds out.”

“I should be the one to go,” James muttered.

“Old man,” Miriam said, “you’re going nowhere.”

Ella drew a deep breath. “I’ll make sure the lanterns on the buggy have plenty of oil.”

“You knew this was going to happen?” Margaret could hardly believe her ears. It was all she could do to remain seated on the davenport in her parlor.

Across the room, Gray Truesdale’s lanky form overpowered the chair he had chosen.

“It should come as no surprise,” Gray said.

“It most certainly does come as a surprise,” Margaret said, her pitch rising against her will. Fury roiled through her midsection. “The fines were ridiculous in the first place. But arresting the fathers? Taking well-loved children into state custody as if they were abandoned orphans?”

“The lawmen are only doing their jobs,” Gray said mildly. “It has nothing to do with you. Don’t let it get you into a bothered state.”

“A bothered state?”

“Your tea is getting cold,” Gray said.

Margaret was tempted to toss her cold tea in Gray’s lap. How was it possible that he could maintain this dispassionate demeanor when children were being stolen from their homes under the guise of the law?

“The men will take care of it.” Gray lifted his teacup. “Will you freshen this for me?”

Margaret glared but picked up the teapot and refilled his cup.

“You’re overreacting,” Gray said between sips. “You have to let things take their natural course.”

And just what was the “natural course” of a situation as complex as legislators and sheriffs and school boards refusing to view the circumstances through a lens other than their own? Margaret did not waste her breath posing the question to Gray.

“I saw your brother earlier,” she said instead. “He was acting quite odd.”

Gray shrugged. “You met him at Sunday dinner. You know he’s odd.”

“He was right here on my street, carrying a flour sack I’m certain did not contain flour.”

“People use old flour sacks for all sorts of things,” Gray said, forking into a sliver of pie. “Potato sacks, too. When we were young, the Amish around here were always glad to have sacks my mother didn’t want to use.”

“He made me nervous,” Margaret said. “I think I will have a word with Deputy Fremont about it. Perhaps there have been some thefts in the neighborhood.”

Gray put down his fork. “You think my brother is a thief?”

“I’m saying he was acting in an eccentric manner. If you want me to put such confidence in the sheriff’s department, wouldn’t it seem prudent to mention my observations?”

Gray took a bite of pie and chewed slowly. “You have misunderstood me.”

“Have I?”

“Margaret, we were having a pleasant evening before I mentioned the Amish problem. I’m sorry I brought it up. Let’s forget about it.”

“Those children must be frightened half out of their minds.”

Gertie’s face loomed in Margaret’s thoughts. Then one by one the other Amish children who had stopped attending school marched through her vision like a moving picture.

“They’ll be well looked after,” Gray said.

“You can’t know that. I have to do something.”

“I must insist that you stay out of this.”

Margaret raised her eyebrows.

“I know you are a woman of strong cause,” Gray said, “and on the whole I find it an admirable quality. But when we are married, I hope you know it will not be your place to involve yourself in matters I do not approve of.”

Margaret stood up now. “We have spoken around the matter of marriage,” she said, “and I confess I had hoped we would find a common mind. But I think we both know now that we are not as well matched as we had supposed.”

Speaking the words aloud jolted electricity through Margaret’s body.

Gray stood. “I can give you a comfortable life. You won’t get a better offer.”

“No,” she said softly, “I don’t suppose I will.”

A knock on the door startled them both. Margaret moistened her lips and answered the door. Ella Hilty stood under the porch light.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” Ella said. “I need to find Mr. Percival Eggar. I wonder if you know where he lives?”

“Come in,” Margaret said.

Ella glanced at Gray. “I’m intruding.”

“This is Mr. Truesdale,” Margaret said. “He’s finished his pie, and I’m certain he will understand your need for assistance.”

“I’m grateful for any help you can give me.” Ella’s words lost their fluidity. “My father … Gideon … the children … I don’t know where to begin.”

“I think I know the basics,” Margaret said. “I’m sorry I don’t know where Mr. Eggar lives, but we can get the telephone operator on the line. She will know how to reach him.”

Margaret picked up the telephone on the table at the bottom of the stairs. With heavy, deliberate steps, Gray Truesdale left the house and closed the door behind him.