Taken for English (37 page)

Maura did not for one minute believe what Belle said. Joseph was right. Belle needed time. She would come to her senses once her heart began to mend.

Still, Belle’s words stung. Instead of turning toward home, or even toward Main Street, she let her feet carry her out of town. She walked so far she began to wonder if she should have brought the cart. No, it was better to be alone, unencumbered even by a horse that never hesitated to serve her well. At least she was wearing practical shoes, and pinched toes would not distract her from what weighed on her mind. Miles passed beneath determined steps. The closer she got to the White River, the more strongly she felt she wanted to sit on its bluff and let her heart soak in its beauty while the wind whipped cool dampness and deposited it on her clothing. Across the open ranch land, an occasional darting rabbit, cattle with fly-swatting tails, and the swarming flies of summer were the only moving beings she saw.

She cut through the woods along the inland edge of the Denton ranch, staying under the canopy of shade as much as she could. Humidity weighed down with its outrageous magnification of the heat to the point that Maura wondered if anyone would care if she meandered down the sloped side of the bluff and waded away from the river’s edge. Despite her anticipation of standing in awe of the river, her heart collapsed in on itself as she moved through the Denton land and the woods thinned until she could hardly find a tree for a passing moment of shade. With horror, she realized that Ing and Lee had ravaged their own land beyond recognition. In the name of honest work, men like Ezekiel Berkey and Joseph Beiler and a dozen others from Gassville had labored to deprive the land of its enchantment.

Finally she reached the crown of the bluff and felt the movement of air swirling up from the path the river carved. Northeastern Arkansas was hardly the frontier. It had not been for some time. Trim little towns like Gassville dotted the landscape, and travelers could begin journeys in any direction in the relative comfort of a railroad car—even sleeping Pullman compartments.

Maura heard footsteps crunching behind her and spun around. “Joseph.”

“It’s a beautiful spot, is it not?” He tilted his hat toward the rushing water.

Maura spread her arms. “It was more beautiful before…how could Lee and Ing take out so many trees?”

“At first it was just going to be a few, so they could see the river from the house.” Joseph moved to stand beside Maura. “Then it was a few more, and a few more.”

“It’s awful.” She shook her head. “It’s just awful. There’s nothing else to say. But why should the riverfront be pretty when the county is one big gunslinging pile of hate?”

He had no response.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to accuse you. If you hadn’t wanted the work, they would have found someone else.”

“True enough. But now that I see what it must look like through the eyes of someone who grew up here, perhaps I was overeager.”

She sucked in her bottom lip and let it out. “I’m sure if the posse had turned up something I would have heard the news.”

“Nothing,” he said. “I don’t believe they will ride again.”

“If anyone can talk sense into them, it would be you.”

“You flatter me. But my people are not given to pride, so I will only humbly respond that the men want to get back to their own businesses. Catching Mr. Roper will be up to whatever system you
English
have for such matters once a man has disappeared as undeniably as he has.”

“Yet the feud continues.” Maura put both hands on her hips and surveyed the water. “Old Man Twigg and Leon Mooney go after each other with hateful words practically every day in the middle of the street. It’s only a matter of time before one of them carries a gun again. Why cannot we live in peace? Surely there is enough prosperity for everyone.”

With her lips pressed closed, she inhaled deeply the scent of Joseph Beiler mingled with stumps and river spray. This spot would never again smell as it had before the trees were removed, but now it would at least remind her of Joseph Beiler, the most unlikely visitor she had ever welcomed to Gassville.

“Zeke is going to tell the bishop the county is too violent for a settlement of our people,” Joseph said quietly.

“We should have welcomed you all with open arms. But it would seem that even the death of a man as noble and well loved as Abraham Byler cannot force people to treat each other like human beings.”

“Surely the present sentiment will not last forever.”

“I’m not sure I want to be around to find out.” Maura surprised herself with her words. “Maybe I should just get away. Go back east. Go south. Go north. Just go someplace where people are more civilized.

“Would you really leave?” Joseph’s eyes widened, and Maura’s spirit stumbled under the import of what she had voiced.

If Maura Woodley would consider leaving Gassville, perhaps she would consider leaving with him. Joseph dried his clammy palms on his trousers and straightened his hat with both hands.

“Are your people truly peaceful?” she asked, her voice full of quiver.

Joseph wished he could give an unequivocal answer but settled for the truth. “We have our quarrels. We are sinners, too.”

“But you stick together somehow.”

“Somehow, yes. By God’s grace.”

“I cannot imagine God is very pleased with the likes of Gassville right now.”

“God is love.”

Maura paced away then returned. “You talk about the closeness of your families. The Dentons and Twiggs might say the same thing, but look what they are doing.”

Joseph cleared his throat. “That is because they are motivated by pride, not submission. That changes everything.”

“So why are you here, Joseph? Why are you riding with the posses?”

Joseph had asked himself the same questions a hundred times. “A man has to test his convictions. To be sure they are his own.”

“And are they?”

Her brown eyes begged him for an answer that made sense. If only he had one.

“Halt or I’ll shoot!” The anger in the man’s voice jolted them both, and they startled. A second later they stared at the end of a pistol.

“Ing Denton, what are you doing?” Maura roused and reached out to slap the pistol away.

“What are you doing on my land?” Ing demanded.

“I’ve been strolling through your land since I was a little girl.”

“And what about him?” Ing thrust a finger toward Joseph.

“I suppose working on your land made me come to admire it,” Joseph said.

“Well, I’m not taking any chances with those crazy Twiggs around. Get off my land. Both of you. Now.”

Y
es, it’s Alan’s.”

Bryan ran his finger along the blue zigzag as Ruth held the strap.

“But he wasn’t at the fire last night.” Ruth felt a tremble take hold in her knees. “Why would his water bottle strap be in our field?”

“He was definitely working at the grocery store last night.”

“How can you be sure?” Elijah spoke for the first time. “Ruth says she was with you before you discovered the fire.”

Ruth’s stomach crunched. She had hated having to reveal that fact to Elijah. The words sounded even worse coming from his mouth.

Elijah pressed the issue. “If you weren’t working, how can you be sure Alan was?”

“Alan was on the schedule,” Bryan said. “The store manager was leaning on him pretty hard not to blow it off.”

“Pardon me if I am being rude,” Elijah said, “but that does not sound the same as being certain.”

“I saw him go into the store at the start of his shift, about an hour before Ruth and I left town.”

Ruth looked from Elijah to Bryan. Neither man’s eyes budged from the other.

“The carabiner is broken.” Ruth wound the strap around one hand. “Wouldn’t his water bottle have fallen off?”

“That’s hard to say,” Bryan said. “Maybe he left the strap in one of the engines and it happened to fall out last night in the field.”

Ruth shook her head. “The spot where I found it was not anywhere near where the engines were parked. At first I thought it might belong to one of the firefighters, but the more I thought about it, the less sense that made.”

Bryan shrugged. “Then maybe I’m wrong and it’s not Alan’s.”

“No one in my family has anything like this. Besides, it’s decorative.”

“So?”

“So the Amish would not so much as put a ribbon in their hair or on the band of a hat,” Elijah said. “They certainly would not carry a strap like this.”

“Let’s not jump all over each other.” Bryan put up both hands, palms out. “I want to help. But if this is Alan’s strap, and you’re implying that he had something to do with the fire, well, that’s serious.”

“I don’t mean to imply anything,” Ruth said. “I’m asking questions, that’s all. Trying to make sense of things.”

“Why don’t you let me talk to Alan?” Bryan reached out with an open hand. “Let me take the strap. I could say I found it.”

“I don’t want you to lie,” Ruth said.

“I think Ruth should hang on to it in case it turns out to be important.” Elijah glared at Bryan.

“Hey, Alan is my friend. I care what happens to him. If he has something to do with the fire, I want to get to the bottom of things as much as you do.”

“It’s all right.” Ruth put a hand on Elijah’s arm. “Alan trusts Bryan, and so do I.”

On Monday Ruth checked her cell phone at a frequency she would have been embarrassed to confess. It was fully charged. It was turned on. Even in the pocket of her scrubs, it would vibrate enough to alert her of activity, and even at work at the clinic she would be able to step away and at least listen to a message.

She was not sure what she expected. Bryan had said he would get to the bottom of things, but he had not promised immediate results. Only a day had passed since she let the strap drop into his hand over Elijah’s objection. Although they were roommates, Bryan and Alan did not always work the same shifts at the grocery store or volunteer together at the fire station. Those schedules were in the hands of other people. In reality, they probably saw less of each other than she and Annalise did.

Ruth’s clinic schedule on Monday was all day. She worked the morning at the front desk then spent the afternoon shadowing a physician’s assistant. Normally she looked forward to opportunities to at least observe the medical staff rather than be buried in files and phone messages, but on Monday, her concentration had been no better than during church on Sunday. Halfway through the shadowing shift, she snagged a notepad from the front desk and forced herself to write notes in an effort to pay closer attention.

When her day ended at four o’clock, her phone had not rung all day. She took her jacket off the hook in the staff room and slid her arms into the sleeves while she weighed the pros and cons of trying to track down Bryan in person. He had never said where he lived, just that he lived with Alan, but the town was small enough that she could cruise the streets and look for his car. Or she could casually stop by the grocery store for some shampoo or something else she did not need.

No. She would not go looking for trouble. She trusted Bryan. He would find her when he knew something.

Ruth draped her purse strap over one shoulder and went out the back door of the clinic.

When a form moved out of the shadows, Ruth sucked in her breath and stepped aside.

“What’s the matter, Ruth?”

Alan.

“May I walk you home?” He produced a genial smile.

Ruth might have felt better if she could see his hands. They remained plunged into the pockets of his gray fleece-lined jacket. She glanced toward Main Street.

“A lot of people would drive to work.” Alan touched her elbow now. “I suppose you people like your exercise.”

You people?

“Sometimes I drive. It depends on my mood or whether I’m running late. It’s only a few blocks, after all.”

“You must have been on time this morning. I didn’t see your car.”

“I didn’t know you knew my car.” Ruth wished he would take his hand off her elbow as they walked.

“You could have asked me about that strap, you know.”