Dark Crossings (12 page)

“I must be off.” Maude interrupted him hastily, not wanting to
hear what he remembered. “I’ll stop by the house later, Sarah. Remember, don’t
get rid of anything without my approval.”

She was gone before Sarah could find a reply. The only
consolation was that it would be up to Leo Frost to deal with her.

Sarah glanced at Donald and found his blue eyes twinkling at
her from behind his glasses. He smoothed his sparse blond hair with one
hand.

“I hope you appreciate the favor I just did for you, getting
rid of our dear Maude that way.”

Once again, she didn’t know how to respond. She should not
admit to being glad to see Maude steam off down the street. “I’m sure she means
well,” Sarah said finally.

McKay chuckled. “That’s what’s called damning with faint
praise,” he said. “Maude makes it sound as if she, not the historical society,
is the beneficiary. I’m sure that’s how she thinks it should be.”

“It was up to Mr. Strickland to leave his property as he
wished,” Sarah said, reminded again of the fact that he’d wanted to change his
will before he died.

“True enough,” McKay said. “At the risk of sounding too much
like Maude, I’d be willing to come and help you sort out the valuables from the
trash in Richard’s collections. There are some antiques that should be
safeguarded when the house is empty.”

That at least she knew how to answer. “I’m sure the house will
be safe. I’m there during the day, you know. And at night, Mr. Frost has asked
the police to drive by and check on it, in addition to Hank Mitchell being in
the garage apartment.”

“That relieves my mind,” McKay said. “I’m glad Leo is being
cautious. But about valuing the antiques…”

“That would be up to Mr. Frost,” she said quickly. “He told me
not to let anyone in the house without his approval.”

“How farsighted of him,” McKay murmured. “I’ll speak to him
about it, then.”

“Thank you for the offer.” The boxes were becoming unwieldy,
and the house had begun to look like a sanctuary. “I must go now.”

McKay nodded, stepping back inside the shop. The sleeping cat
opened one eye, looked at him and closed it again.

Readjusting the boxes, Sarah scurried down the street. It was
normal, surely, for people to offer their help. In the case of a death in the
Amish community, the family would immediately be surrounded by other Amish,
ready to take over care of the farm, the children, or anything else that must be
done.

It was natural, she assured herself. So why did it make her
feel so uncomfortable?

CHAPTER FOUR

B
Y
THE
TIME
S
ARAH
reached the house, the boxes were slipping out
of her arms. Seeing her struggle with them, Hank dropped his hedge clippers and
loped over to rescue them.

“You should have told me you needed these. I could’ve been your
pack mule.” He balanced the boxes easily, giving her a smile that made him look
like a mischievous ten-year-old.

“
Danki
—thank you,” she corrected,
switching to English. “They’re not heavy, just unwieldy.”

“As long as I’m living in the garage apartment, I’m supposed to
be doing the chores around here.” He shrugged. “I don’t suppose that lawyer
mentioned anything to you about when I have to leave.”

“No. No, he hasn’t.” It hadn’t occurred to her that Hank would
be losing his apartment with Mr. Strickland’s death. “I’m sorry.”

“No problem,” he said easily, waiting while she unlocked the
door. “I guess I’ll just be moving on.” He leaned against the door frame. “Will
you miss me, Sarah?”

She kept her gaze on the key. “I will be sorry to lose my job,”
she said. The door opened, and she held out her hands for the boxes. “But I wish
you well in whatever you do next.”

“I’ll carry these in for you.” Hank started to move past
her.

“I’m sorry.” She stepped in front of him, mindful of Leo
Frost’s orders. “I’m not supposed to let anyone in the house unless Mr. Frost
tells me to.”

Hank’s expression of surprise was almost comical. “But…I’m
always in and out. How am I supposed to get the plant food and the watering cans
from the mudroom if I can’t come in?”

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “You should talk to Mr. Frost
about it. I’m sure he’ll understand.” Or would he? Leo hadn’t seemed especially
pleased with Mr. Strickland’s decision to let his young relative stay here.

“Guess I’ll have to talk to him. Frost doesn’t expect you to do
the heavy work of sorting and clearing, does he? That’s not right, especially
when I’m here.”

“That is
sehr
kind of you, Hank.
I’m glad you understand that I must do as he says.”

At least, she supposed she did. Maude Stevens seemed to think
she
should be giving the orders.

Nodding at Hank, Sarah closed the door and gathered up the
boxes. If Mrs. Stevens was right… She stopped, shook her head and headed for the
front stairs. That was for the
Englische
to sort
out, not her.

By the time she’d reached the stairs, she realized she’d need
the packaging tape, which was kept in the utility drawer in the kitchen.
Dropping the boxes, she started back there, glancing at the telephone stand as
she passed. And stopped, staring. When she’d left the house, she’d noticed that
there were several messages on the machine, and had made a mental note to ask
Leo what to do about them. Now the message indicator said zero. Someone had been
in the house while she was gone.

* * *

S
ARAH
WAS
BEING
QUIETER
than usual this evening.
Jacob glanced at her as she sat at the kitchen table across from him, her head
bent over the record books from the shop. It had been her
daad’
s idea that Jacob should show Sarah how he’d been keeping the
books, so that she could take over once her job had ended.

That, too, was her father’s idea. Jacob wasn’t so sure it was
what Sarah herself intended.

She’d enjoyed the freedom working in town gave her. He knew his
Sarah. She’d be looking for some way of continuing that freedom.

She smoothed a strand of hair back under her
kapp,
and his gaze followed the movement, imagining
that silky strand flowing through his fingers.

She made a penciled check mark against one item in a column,
and he leaned a little closer to see what she questioned. The repair to Simon
Esch’s mower, it looked like.

There was a fine line between her eyebrows, and he didn’t think
it had anything to do with the fact that Simon hadn’t yet paid for his mower
repair.

“
Was ist letz,
Sarah? You are
troubled,” he said quietly, not wanting her parents, in the next room, to
hear.

She glanced around the lamplit kitchen, as if assuring herself
that her younger sisters were safely engaged in a board game in the living room,
where her mother sat with her mending and her father read the latest issue of
The Budget
for news of the Amish community.
Darkness pressed against the kitchen windows, and the overhead gas lamp cast a
golden glow on Sarah’s face.

“I had three different people offering to help sort things in
the house today, and it’s hard to find a way to say no to them. But Leo was very
clear about it—no one is to come in unless he gives the okay.”

“Who were they?” Jacob could guess that one of them would have
been Hank, who always seemed to be hanging around Sarah.

“Maude Stevens,” she said. “Reminding me that her late husband
was a relative of Mr. Strickland’s. And Mr. McKay from the antiques shop, who
seemed to feel he was the only one who could properly value the old pieces in
Mr. Strickland’s house. And Hank, of course.”

Of course. “I hope you told them all to talk to Leo Frost,” he
said. “It is his responsibility to deal with them, not yours.”

“I know, but what can I do when—”

She broke off, her head lifting, and in an instant he heard the
sound, as well. A horse whinnying somewhere outside.

“That’s Dick,” she said, referring to one of the big Belgian
draft horses her father used for plowing. “He seems too close. He must be out.”
She turned toward the living room. “
Daad,
Dick is
out. Somebody must not have latched the stall door.”

A squabble broke out immediately between Sarah’s younger
sisters, each blaming the other.

“I will
komm,
” her father said.

But Sarah was already snatching a shawl from the hooks in the
back hall. “Don’t bother. I’ll get him.”

“Let me,” Jacob began, but she shook her head.

“Too many people coming at him will spook him for sure.”
Everyone in the township knew that Dick didn’t have the placid disposition of
most Belgians. “I can do it.”

Jacob hid a smile. Sometimes he thought “I can do it” must have
been Sarah’s first sentence.

“I will just step out on the porch in case you need me,” he
said, intending to pacify her.

Sarah was already out the back door, and he followed her,
pausing for a moment to let his eyes get accustomed to the dark. Stars clustered
thick in the sky, but it was the dark of the moon, so there was little
illumination. Sarah had gone without a flashlight, and he reached back inside
the door to grasp one from the hook in case they needed it.

He stepped off the porch, hoping she didn’t take it into her
head to turn around and see him disobeying her instructions. She’d have a word
or two to say about that, for sure.

His gaze picked out the white of Sarah’s
kapp
as his night vision cleared. Her dark dress and black shawl
made the rest of her invisible.

There was another whinny, this time closer still. He frowned.
Dick didn’t sound like he was waiting for someone to return him to the safety of
his stall. He sounded spooked.

“There, now, Dick, silly boy.” Sarah’s voice was calm and full
of affection. “
Komm
here now. I will take you back
to your stall.”

Jacob spotted the draft horse, a large, pale shadow. The animal
drifted slowly toward Sarah, as if uncertain what to do.

“That’s my boy,” she crooned. “You don’t want to be out in the
dark.” She held up her hand, taking a step closer.

Uneasiness was a chill breath on Jacob’s neck, and he tried to
shrug it off. Sarah had been dealing with the horses since she was four, and
even her father admitted that few could handle them better. It was probably the
uncertainty of the past few days that made him jittery.

“That’s my boy,” she repeated, then reached for the halter, the
movement slow and gentle. “You got out and didn’t know what to do, did you?” Her
hand touched the halter.

The night seemed to explode with noise—thudding hooves,
frightened whinnies, a rush of movement from the barn, so fast he could hardly
sort it out. Not just Dick—all the horses were out, frightened, bolting
mindlessly.

Jacob raced toward the spot where Sarah had been, heart
pounding, his breath catching.
Sarah.
None of the
horses would step on her if they saw her, but frightened, in the dark—who knew
what might happen?

He reached the animals, lunging between them, not caring for
the moment what happened to them as long as he could find Sarah. Then he saw
her, a dark shape on the ground, and his heart wanted to burst with fear.

“Sarah!”

But she was already scrambling to her feet. “I’m all right. Get
after the horses before they run onto the road.”

Relief flooded through him. Sarah wouldn’t sound that tart if
anything was wrong with her.

“
Ja,
I’m trying.” He grabbed the
nearest halter, realizing that he had hold of Sarah’s mother’s buggy horse. A
skittish mare at the best of times, she shied away, but he hung on, grimly
determined, until she settled.

“I’ve got Bell, but if I let go to get the others, she’ll
run.”

Sarah came toward him, dwarfed by the two immense draft horses
she led. “Take Dick and Bill. As long as you have a hand on them, they won’t
move. Maybe they’ll settle Bell.”

“Watch out for that colt,” he warned. Sarah’s
daad
had a half-broken colt he seemed to think would
make a good buggy horse, but Jacob had his doubts. The sound of a car out on the
road somewhere alarmed him. If that colt made a break for the road, it could
cause an accident.

Maybe he should try to get these three into the barn and help
Sarah— The back door flew open. Alerted by the noise, Josiah, Sarah’s father,
came hurrying out.

In a few minutes’ time, they were putting all the horses safely
back into their stalls. Josiah, frowning, checked each of the latches. He shook
his head.

“The girls can be careless sometimes, but not this
careless.”

“Someone has done this deliberately.” Sarah stated the obvious
conclusion.

“
Ach,
it’s spring,” Josiah said, as
if that explained it all. “Some young person thought it would be a
gut
joke to let all the horses out.”

True, the amount of mischief increased with the warmer weather,
but Jacob wasn’t satisfied. “Not an Amish kid, ain’t so?”

Josiah shook his head. “I would hope that none of ours would be
so heedless of the animals. They could have run onto the road and been hit.”

“I heard a car,” Jacob said. “When we were rounding up the
horses, I heard a car on the road. I didn’t think of it at the time, but what I
heard was the engine starting.”

Sarah stared at him, her eyes wide in the glow of the battery
lanterns. “You mean someone parked along the road,” she said. “Someone
Englische
.”

“
Englische.
We will never know
who.” Josiah led the way out of the barn. “And we forgive them, whoever they
are.”

Jacob nodded agreement. What else could he do? But he didn’t
like this.

He caught up with Sarah as her father went in the house. “Wait
a minute.” He touched her arm to stop her. “What if this had something to do
with what’s been happening at the Strickland place? Sarah, I don’t think you
should go there anymore.”

“Don’t be so foolish. How could the horses getting out have
anything to do with Mr. Strickland?” She pulled away from him and marched into
the house.

But he had heard the worry under her curt tone, and he knew
Sarah had been thinking just what he had.