Returning To His Amish Past

From her first glimpse of his big-city suit, Ellie Miller knows Bram Lapp is trouble. The handsome Englischer says he wants to reclaim the life he left long ago. Even if his smile disarms her, all of Ellie’s energy must go to her children and their struggling farm…and to atoning for her mistakes.

A criminal’s trail has brought FBI informant Bram to Ellie’s warm and welcoming Indiana community. Now he’s posing as the kind of man he once hoped to be. Someone steadfast and upright. Someone who might be worthy of Ellie. Because no matter how much she claims she doesn’t want a second chance at love, he knows he’s found the home they were meant to share.

“Last night you told me

you never intended to stay here.”

Ellie kept her eyes on the far side of the lake, where a heron stalked in the shallows. “I know I said I’d trust you, Bram, but I don’t know what to think. You’re like two different people sometimes—sweet and tender one minute, and then harsh and almost frightening other times.”

“Ja, I know, and I’m sorry.” Bram paused, his own eyes on the motionless heron. The bird was nearly invisible in the shadow of the trees, his gray-blue coloring a shadow within a shadow. Living undercover. How did a man stop living a lie?

“I want to stay, Ellie. But I don’t know if I’ll be able to.” He took her hand in his, and she looked at him.

“Even if you stay, we can never be more than friends.” Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, her blue eyes reflecting the water.

“Aren’t we already more than friends, Ellie?”

JAN DREXLER

A recent graduate from Homeschool Mom-hood, Jan Drexler devotes her time to the voices in her head who have been clamoring for attention during the past few decades. Instead of declining Latin nouns and reviewing rhetorical devices, her days are now spent at the computer, where she gives her characters free rein.

She lives in the Black Hills of South Dakota with her husband of thirty years, their four adult children, an extremely furry Husky, and Maggie, the cat who thinks she’s a dog. If she isn’t sitting at her computer living the lives of her characters, she’s probably hiking in the Hills or the Badlands, enjoying the spectacular scenery.

The Prodigal Son Returns

Jan Drexler

www.millsandboon.co.uk

He shall cover thee with his feathers,

and under his wings shalt thou trust:

his truth shall be thy shield and buckler.

—Psalms 91:4

To the storytellers in my life, especially

my grandmother, Ethel Sherck Tomlonson Rupel, and my parents, John and Veva Tomlonson.

To my dear husband and children,

who never stop believing in me.

And to the ladies of Seekerville.net. Without you, I’d still be typing away, alone in my writer cave.

Soli Deo Gloria

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Epilogue

Dear Readers

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

LaGrange County, Indiana

May 1936

A high-pitched scream forced Bram Lapp’s feet into a run even before his mind could identify the source. He raced up the dusty farm lane between a garden and a plain white house at the top of the sloping yard, and when the next scream sounded, ending in a terrified child’s voice yelling, “Ne, ne!”, adrenaline rushed in, pushing him faster. He knew that sound all too well—a child was in danger, terrified. Grim possibilities flashed through his mind.

Rounding the corner of the barn, Bram’s slick leather soles skidded sideways in the gravel. His feet found purchase, and he focused on the little girl crouched in front of him. A chicken flapped at the end of her outstretched arm, but her eyes were on the four draft horses looming over her. He dived toward her, letting his momentum carry him beyond the horses. Grabbing the girl in his arms, he rolled them both past the

dinner-plate-size hooves and slid to a halt at the edge of the grassy backyard.

Bram shoved the child off his chest onto the grass, spitting feathers from his mouth, trying to see past the squawking red hen in his face. Where was she hurt? She screamed even louder as he wrenched the protesting chicken out of her hands and tossed it behind him.

Wide brown eyes cut from the horses to his face and then back again, her screams turning to ragged crying. She tried to pull away, but he kept her close with a firm grip on her arm. If she was hurt, or bleeding, the worst thing she could do would be to run and hide somewhere. He’d seen enough of that with kids on the Chicago streets.

He brushed at the feathers caught in her disheveled brown braids. She no longer looked like a copy of the chicken that still scolded him from a distance, but the tears running down her face clenched at his stomach. He turned her to one side and then the other. No blood that he could see. She ignored his touch; her eyes were fixed on the horses behind his shoulder.

The rattle of the harness told him the horses were moving. Her eyes widened even more as she tried to pull out of his grasp, sucking in a deep breath. Before she could let loose with another scream that might panic the horses further, Bram did the only thing he could think of to prevent it. He clapped his hand over the girl’s mouth.

“What are you doing?”

The fury in the young woman’s voice registered at the same time as the pain in his hand as the little girl sank her teeth into him. He bit back a curse and released her. With a flurry of skirts, a slim Amish woman descended on them from nowhere and snatched the girl up in her arms. Holding the child close, she fixed her blue eyes on Bram, flashing a warning as she watched him scramble to his feet.

He’d rather face the wrong end of a tommy gun than this... Wildcat seemed to be the only word for her.

A wildcat who had no business being angry with him.

His answer barked out in Deitsch before he thought about it. “I was just saving that girl from being trampled by these horses, that’s all. What did you think I was doing?”

Was that a smile that twitched at the corners of her mouth?

“Those horses?”

Bram turned to look at the draft horses and noticed for the first time they were tied to a hitching rail. The near horse flicked a lazy ear at a fly, a movement that did nothing to quell his rising irritation. He spun back to the young woman and the little girl, who stared at him with one finger in her mouth.

“Ja, those horses. No matter how docile they seem, she could be hurt playing around them like that. She was screaming so loudly I assumed she had been.”

The woman caught the edge of her lower lip between her teeth and hitched the little girl around to her hip. The self-righteous soothing of Bram’s prickled temper stopped short at her nod.

“Ja, you’re right. She shouldn’t be near the horses at all. She panics like this every time she gets near them, but you didn’t know that.” She drew a deep breath that shuddered at the end. “Denki for helping.”

That shaky breath got him. Bram straightened his jacket and dusted off his gabardine trousers to give his eyes something to focus on. Her steady gaze demanded his apology, but he wasn’t about to admit he was sorry for saving the girl, was he?

When he looked up, her gaze was still on him, expectant, her blue eyes a sharp contrast to her brown dress. Even standing on a slight rise above him, her kapp barely reached the level of his chin, but he was defenseless.

“I’m sorry. I probably scared her as much as the horses did.”

This time he was sure her mouth twitched.

“Ja, probably.”

Then she did smile, lighting up her face in a way that would make those painted girls back in Chicago green with envy. Bram drew a deep breath. Who would have thought he’d find a beauty like this among these Plain people?

“Memmi,” the little girl said, “can I go find Grossmutti?”

“Ja, for sure.” The woman set the girl on the grass and watched her run to the back of the house.

Memmi? Bram’s thoughts did an about-face. She was married, a mother, and he had let himself get distracted by a pretty face, and an Amish one at that. He was here to buy a horse, nothing more.

“Is your husband around? I heard he had a horse for sale.”

The woman paused, the smile gone in a shadow. “I think you’re looking for my father. You’ll find him in the barn.”

Bram glanced toward the barn cellar door as she nodded toward it, but by the time he had turned to her again, she was halfway to the house. “Denki,” he called after her. She didn’t look back.

* * *

Ellie Miller fought the urge to run to the safety of the Dawdi Haus with four-year-old Susan, keeping her walk steady until she joined Mam at the clothesline behind the big house.

She had forgotten. An Englischer gave her a crooked grin, and she had forgotten about Daniel. How could something so innocent make her forget her own husband?

Something about that Englischer didn’t make sense...

Ach, he had spoken Deitsch. His suit and hat were Englisch for sure, with that bright yellow necktie, but where had he learned to speak Deitsch?

And that grin! Her breath caught at the whispery ache that wrapped around her chest. Daniel had smiled at her often, but without a mischievous dimple that winked at her. What was she doing even letting her mind remember that grin? He was just another Englischer.

Ellie pulled a shirt from the basket to hang on the line.

Ja, just another Englischer who spoke Deitsch and made her rebellious heart flip when he smiled.

“Who was that man you were talking to? If it was another tramp, there’s a piece of pie in the kitchen.” Mam’s voice drifted to her from the other side of the clothesline, where she was hanging the girls’ dresses.

“He wasn’t looking for food. He wanted to talk to Dat.” Ellie glanced at the barn, glad for Dat’s ease when it came to talking to outsiders. “There was something strange about him. He was wearing Englisch clothes, but he spoke Deitsch.”

Mam’s voice was calm, as if she heard Englischers speaking their language all the time. “Maybe he has some Amish friends and learned the language from them. Did he want to buy the gelding Dat has for sale?”

“What would he want with a horse?”

“I expect an Englischer might want a horse once in a while.” Mam pulled another dress out of the basket at her feet. “When I see them tear along the roads in those automobiles, I wonder why anyone would hurry that fast just to end up in a ditch.”

“Lovina’s neighbor only did that once.”

“Once is enough, isn’t it?” Mam pulled the loaded clothesline lower to look at Ellie. “A person can be in too much of a hurry at times. When do you have time to pray, or even think?”

“For sure, I’m glad the church decided to keep them verboten. Not only are they noisy, but they smell terrible. Next thing you know, all the Englisch will be buying them.”

“Ach, not until these hard times are over.”

Ellie sighed as she pinned one of her brother’s shirts on the line. Would these hard times ever be over?

“I like automobiles.” Susan’s voice was soft, hesitant.

Ellie looked down at her young daughter. Automobiles? What would she say next?

“Why do you say that?” Ellie shook out the next shirt with a snap.

Susan leaned closer to Ellie from where she squatted next to one-year-old Danny in the grass under the clothesline, her brown eyes wide in her heart-shaped face. “Because they aren’t horses.” Her words were a whisper as she glanced toward the Belgians waiting to be hitched to the manure spreader.

Ellie pushed the clothespins down firmly. When would Susan get over this fear? Daniel’s accident had changed everything.

At this thought, Ellie paused, grasping at the line to control the sudden shaking of her hands. Her mind filled again with the horses’ grunting whinnies, the stomping hooves, the smell of fear and blood, Daniel trapped against the barn wall and then falling under those huge hooves... Ellie’s stomach churned. That day had left an impression in Susan’s mind that affected her even now, months later. It still affected all of them.

Ellie shook her head to brush away the memories and shoved the final clothespin onto the last shirt. What was done was done. She might wish things were different, but her husband was dead. That was a truth she faced every day. She refused to succumb to the stifling blanket of grief that pushed at the edge of her mind, tempting her to sink into its seductive folds.

“All done, Mam. Do you want me to help take the clothes in this afternoon?”

“Ne, don’t bother. I’ll have the girls tend to it when they get home from school.”

“Come, sweeties.” Ellie lifted Danny in her arms while Susan hopped on one foot next to her. “Time to get our dinner started.”

Ellie crossed the drive to the worn path between the barn and the vegetable garden that led to the Dawdi Haus. The house her grandparents had lived in when she was a child had sheltered her little family during the months since Daniel’s death. Susan ran ahead of her along the lane, her earlier fright forgotten.

“Plan on eating supper with us tonight,” Mam called after her. “I’m fixing a chicken casserole, and there’s plenty for all.”

“Ja, for sure,” Ellie called back, then turned her attention to Danny, who was squirming to get out of her arms. “Sit still there, young man.” She laughed at the determined expression on his face as she followed Susan.

Ellie watched the little girl skipping ahead, but her mind was full of a queer anticipation. It was as if her birthday was coming or the wild freshness of the first warm air of spring, pushing back the dark clouds of winter....

That Englischer’s grin, that was what brought this on. It did something to her, and she frowned at this thought. It didn’t matter what an Englischer did, no matter how blue his eyes were.

That grin held a secret. What was he thinking when he looked at her?

She hitched Danny up as the thought of what might have been going through his head came to her. Ach, why did an Englischer’s wicked-looking grin give her such a delicious feeling at the memory of it?

Dat and the stranger stood on the threshing floor between the open barn doors, where the fresh air and light were plentiful, but Ellie kept her eyes on the edge of the garden as she hurried to follow Susan. If she glanced their way, would she see that dimple flash as he grinned at her again?

She had to stop thinking about him. He would talk to Dat and then be gone, and she’d never see him again, for sure.

In the backyard of the Dawdi Haus, Ellie paused to pass her hand along a pair of her oldest son’s trousers. Dry already. She’d bring in the laundry before fixing the children’s dinner. After she put the little ones down for their naps, she could iron in the quiet time before Johnny, her scholar, came home. She smiled, anticipating the quiet hour or so in the shaded house, alone with her thoughts.

Opening the screen door for Susan, Ellie chanced a look at the big white barn behind her. Ja, he was still there, talking with Dat. She followed Susan into the house, letting the door close behind them with a ringing slam.

* * *

Bram glanced at the man next to him. John Stoltzfus was stern, yet quiet and confident. More like the grossdatti he barely remembered than the father he had left behind so many years ago. From the clean, ordered barn to the little girl skipping along the lane at the bottom of the ramp, the Stoltzfus farm was a world away from the home he had remembered growing up.

And a world away from Chicago. In the three days since he’d stepped out of his life in the city and walked back into his past, those twelve years had slipped away until even the stench of the West Side was a half-

remembered dream. Was he losing his edge already? It was too easy to fall into this simple, Plain life.

Bram’s thoughts followed the young woman in the brown dress as she walked past the barn toward the Dawdi Haus. When she ran her hand along the boy’s trousers on the clothesline, a door opened into a long-forgotten place in his mind. That simple, feminine action spoke of the home he had tried to forget. How many times had he seen his Mam do that same thing?

The breeze brought the scent of freshly plowed fields into the barn as the young woman opened the door of the Dawdi Haus and then glanced his way, meeting his eyes before disappearing with an echoing slap of the wooden screen door. Why did she live there? And why were there no men’s clothes hanging with the laundry?

Movement next to him drew his attention.

“So you’re coming home?”

John’s unspoken finally lingered at the end of the question, hinting at the speculation Bram knew he would be facing as word of his return spread. He could imagine the stir his disappearance had caused, even here in Eden Township.

“Ja, I’m coming home.” How much information would get him the entrance into this community that he needed without divulging too much? “When I left, I was young and I thought I could always come back, but time got away from me....” Bram sighed and stared across the road at the rich brown corduroy of soil. A flock of blackbirds scattered through the field, picking at exposed seed.

What would his life be like if he had never left? What did he have now, other than lost time and poor choices?

“You left before you joined the church?”

“Ja, I was in my Rumspringa.” A Rumspringa that had never ended. Once he’d left home, Bram had never intended to return.

“What were you looking for out there?”

He glanced back at the older man’s expectant face. From what his brother-in-law, Matthew, had said, John was one of the leaders in this district. Bram needed his support if he would ever be accepted into the community, but it wouldn’t be easy. The Amish kept tight fences.

“I’m not sure now. Maybe excitement, freedom. I never found it, though.” He cast his glance to the side, away from John, as if he was repentant and ashamed. No, he didn’t need to do much acting to slip into this role. “I’m ready to come home.”

Bram steadied his expression and looked back at the older man’s face. He had said it the right way—John Stoltzfus believed him—but Bram didn’t know if he’d ever be ready to come home. He wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t for Killer Kavanaugh and the contract the gangster had put out on him.

“The Ordnung can be hard to live up to.” Bram heard a warning note in John’s voice.

“Not as hard as the way I’ve been living.” The memory of Chicago’s dirty streets clashed against the reality of the fresh spring air outside the big barn door. Yeah, life in Chicago had been dangerous, exciting, risky—and always hard. At least with the Ordnung, a man knew where he stood.

“What does your brother think?”

Samuel. Their father’s living legacy. His brief stop at the family farm near Shipshewana earlier in the week had let him know what Samuel thought. Where Dat had been cruel, Samuel was petty, but that had been the only difference. From the belligerent set of his chin to his bleary eyes, Samuel was Dat all over again.

“Ja, well, Samuel doesn’t believe I’m back to stay.”

“You can understand that. You left a long time ago, and much has happened since then.”

Twelve years. Yes, a lot had happened, both here and in Chicago. Bram’s stomach clenched. He had to make this work....

He forced his voice to remain quiet, in control. “I hope that with time he’ll see I mean what I say.” But he wouldn’t give Samuel the chance. He could go the rest of his life without seeing his brother again.

“With time,” John agreed with a nod. He turned to look back into the shaded interior of the barn, where the horse was tied to a post, the subject closed for now. Bram moved his shoulders against the strain that had crept in without his knowing.

“Partner here should be a good horse for you. He’s a little spirited, but he drives well. My daughter Ellie usually chooses him if she’s going out, and she won’t put up with a horse that won’t mind her. She won’t take any chances with the children in the buggy.”

“Is she the daughter who just went into the Dawdi Haus?”

“Ja. She and the children have been living there since her husband died.”

So the young woman was a widow? Bram tucked that information away as John lifted each of the gelding’s hooves for his inspection. The horse twitched his ears but stood quietly during the process. Bram held out a carrot nub John gave him, and the horse took it, eyeing the stranger as he munched the treat.

“I haven’t dealt with horses much the last few years, but he seems to take to me.”

“He’s a good horse.”

“Your price sounds fair.” Bram pulled his money clip out of his pocket and peeled off a few bills. “Is it all right if I pick him up on Tuesday? I ordered a buggy from Levi Miller’s, and it should be ready to pick up that afternoon.”

“Ja, for sure.” John took the money and shook Bram’s hand. “I’ll be looking for you on Tuesday.”

* * *

Cool air washed over Ellie as she and the children went into the shaded kitchen. She shifted Danny on her hip, ready to put the heavy load down.

“Can we play with Noah’s Ark?” Susan’s favorite toy was a new discovery for Danny.

“Ja, that will be good. Why don’t you set it up in the front room while I change Danny’s diaper?”

Ellie took the baby into the bedroom Danny and Susan shared. She used the second bedroom, while Johnny slept on the sofa in the front room. The little house had seemed like such a refuge when they had moved in, but they were quickly outgrowing it. Dat had offered to add on another bedroom, but Ellie was reluctant to take that step. It seemed so permanent.

She would be moving back to Daniel’s farm as soon as she was able to support herself and the children. The farm belonged to her now. It was the children’s legacy from their father and his dreams for their future. When she was ready to make the move, then she would tell Mam and Dat. No use crossing that bridge yet.

Once clean and dry, Danny was anxious to get into the front room to play with Susan. Ellie put him down on the floor while she took care of the diaper and watched him make his way into the next room, doing his own one-foot-one-knee scooting crawl.

“Ne, Danny!” Hearing Susan’s cry, Ellie stepped through the doorway to see Danny plowing his way through his sister’s carefully set up animal pairs, making a beeline for the cows.

“Just set them up again, Susan. You know he’s not doing it on purpose.”

Ellie picked the marauder up and set him down on his bottom next to the pair of black-and-white cows. He took one in each hand and stuck a cow head into his mouth. He looked up at Ellie with contented adoration on his face, drool dripping down his chin. She couldn’t help caressing his soft hair.

“I think we’ll have to ask Dawdi Hezekiah to make another set of cows.”

“Ne, Memmi, Danny can play with those. I still have the brown ones.”

Ellie gave Susan a smile. The little girl forgave quickly when it came to Danny. Between the two of them, he was nearly spoiled.

Standing up again sent a twinge through Ellie’s back, reminding her of how much work she had done already that morning. She leaned back a bit to ease the strain and caught a glimpse of the strawberry field through the window. She stepped closer to the glass, drinking in the sight of the rows of green leaves nestled in the soil.

Rows of green promising the fulfillment of Daniel’s dreams for their children—a home, a future. Giving them what he wanted was the least she could do. She owed him that much.

Ellie rubbed her arms, brushing away the sudden chill that brought goose bumps, and stepped away from the window. Susan chattered to Danny as she walked the wooden animals up the ramp and through the door of the ark. How would she know when she had given the children enough to make up for what she had done?

Brushing the thought aside, she crossed the room to the kitchen. “Susan, I’m going to bring the clothes in. Call me if you or Danny need anything, ja?”

“Ja, Memmi. I will.”

Picking up the empty basket from the back porch, Ellie started with Johnny’s shirts, dropping the clothespins into the basket as she folded each shirt. When she reached for Susan’s blue dress, the stranger stepped up next to her and took the dress from the line, handing it to her as he dropped the pins with the others.

“I thought I’d check on your little girl before I left.”

Ellie froze with the dress in her hands. What was he doing? Asking for Dat was one thing, but to speak to her in this way?

“She...she’s fine. She’s just fine.” Ellie concentrated on folding the dress and took Johnny’s trousers from the Englischer as he dropped more clothespins into the basket. The sleeve of his jacket was gray, with threads of yellow that matched his necktie and the handkerchief in his breast pocket. No one dressed that fancy, not even the Englischers in town. Who was he?

“I found your Dat in the barn, just like you said. The horse will be perfect for me. John said you’ve driven him quite a bit.”

“Ja, I take him when I need to run errands or go visiting.” Why didn’t he just go? What if Mam saw an Englischer talking with her?

“My name is Bram. Bram Lapp. And you’re Ellie, right?”

Ellie glanced at his face. Ja, that grin was there, making a dimple show on his cheek. Ach, what a mess! How could she get him to leave and still be polite?

“Ja, that’s right.” Her cheeks were flaming hot under his gaze.

“I’m staying with Matthew and Annie Beachey until I find a farm to buy. Annie’s my sister.”

Ellie stared at him. “Your sister? But you’re...” How could he be Annie’s brother? She wasn’t Englisch.

His grin widened. “Has anyone ever told you how beautiful your eyes are?” He turned away and stepped to the next line to start on the many diapers.

Ellie couldn’t pull her eyes away from him, her cheeks burning. How forward could one man be? He ignored her as he pulled the pins off the line and bunched the diapers in his hand. When the line was empty, he dropped the diapers into the basket on top of the clothes.

“I’m glad your little girl is all right.” He picked up the basket and started toward the house. He wouldn’t just walk inside, would he?

“I can take that.” Ellie hurried after him and reached for the basket. He let her grasp the sides as he paused at the porch steps, but he held on until she looked up at him.

“Will I see you again? I’ll be around, you know.” His dimple deepened, and she pulled the basket out of his hands. Didn’t he understand how rude and forward he was being?

“Denki for carrying the basket, but ne, I don’t think you’ll be seeing me again.”

She left him and went into the house, closing the solid wood door behind her, shutting him out. Leaning her back against the door, Ellie listened. Would he be so bold as to follow her onto the porch?

Setting the basket on the floor, she stepped to the sink and looked out the window. There he was, walking past the barn toward the road, his hat tilted on the back of his head and his hands in his pockets.

Annie Beachey’s brother? Ellie squinted her eyes. Ja, perhaps if he wore Plain clothes and a straw hat instead of the gray felt one with the yellow band...

Ne. She shook her head and turned to pull a loaf out of the bread box. He was just too Englisch. For sure, the clothes made him Englisch on the outside, but no Amishman would be so bold with a woman! He was Englisch through and through.

Ellie looked up from her task of slicing the bread. She could still see him on the road. He had taken off his jacket and slung it over one shoulder, and as she watched, he did a little skip and kicked at a rock on the road, sending it bouncing along in front of him. He ran up to it and kicked it again, sending it into the ditch. Laughter bubbled up in her throat, and she leaned toward the window to keep him in view as he hunted for the rock in the tall grass at the side of the road. And then he was gone.

Straightening the bread on the cutting board, she cut two more slices for Susan and Danny before she realized she was still smiling. Ach, what was it about this Englischer? What if he had seen her laughing at him?

She shook her head, putting a frown on her face. Ne, that wouldn’t do at all. Englischers and Amish just didn’t mix, especially strange, fancy men. No good Amish woman would let him near her and her family.

Chapter Two

Bram kept to the shady south side of the gravel road, letting his pace settle into a steady walk that would eat up the four miles to Matthew’s place. It was pure luck his brother-in-law knew about that horse for sale. A week of walking was enough for him. Selling his Studebaker had been a hard sacrifice to make, but it had been a gift from Kavanaugh.

Too risky to keep.

Everything was risky since that night on Chicago’s West Side when Elwood Peters had told him his cover was blown.

Bram loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar to give himself some air. It had been just this hot that April night, but Bram had gone cold with Peters’s terse “You’ve been made.”

How had Kavanaugh known he was the source for the feds? He had been with the gangster for nearly all of the twelve years he had been in Chicago, from the time he had hit the streets with hayseed still stuck in his hair. Kavanaugh had taken him in, taught him some street smarts, shown him the ropes during Prohibition. Man, what a green kid he had been back then—but Kavanaugh liked him, said he had promise. Sure, some of the other guys had been jealous of him, but nobody messed with one of Kavanaugh’s boys.

But it was Elwood Peters who had made a man of him. The Prohibition agent had seen his potential and recruited him to be an informant.

Bram shook his head. No, Peters had done more than just recruit him. He had saved his life. Before Peters came along, Bram had been on the same track as the rest of Kavanaugh’s boys—just waiting for his chance to take the boss down. Even though he had seen what happened to the guy who made his move and failed, Bram didn’t care. What did he have to live for, anyway?

Then he had run into Peters. Over the past ten years, Peters’s job had changed from Prohibition agent, to Treasury agent, to the Federal Bureau, and he had taken Bram with him as his eyes on the street. It had worked out well for both of them.

Bram had shared everything with the older man—everything except his past and his real name. Peters knew him as Dutch, the name Kavanaugh had dubbed him with the first time they met. Bram had added a last name—Sutter—and from then on, Bram Lapp had disappeared into the hazy mist of fading years.

Until now.

Peters was sure Kavanaugh had moved his operation to northern Indiana after Bram’s information had led to the breakup of his gang in Chicago, but he needed to know where the boss had gone. Bram was supposed to go with Kavanaugh when he left town, but once his cover was blown, he had to change his plans. He’d be dead if Kavanaugh found him, but he couldn’t let the gangster escape, either. He’d never be safe until Kavanaugh was out of the way.

Killer Kavanaugh never gave up until he had his revenge.

And then Bram had come up with this new, harebrained idea. It seemed like such a good idea in Chicago—go undercover as himself, Bram Lapp, the green Amish kid from Indiana.

But he wasn’t green anymore. He had seen and done things the Amish kid he had been couldn’t imagine. He had the skills to keep himself alive on the Chicago streets, but would those same skills be useful to him here as he hunted for Kavanaugh’s new center of operations? They had to be.

Bram whooshed out a breath. Meanwhile, here he was slipping away into the life he had left twelve years ago. It wasn’t what he had expected. Not at all. The deeper he went into this cover, the more he was losing the edge he needed to keep him alive. But without the cover, without immersing himself into this community, it would be impossible to fade into the background the way he needed to.

And there was only one way to fade into this background: he needed to look and act the same as every other Amishman around. Any difference would make him stick out like a sore thumb.

The list. He ticked off the items in his mind as he walked. He had bought the buggy and horse. Next would be a place to farm, equipment and workhorses, and church every other Sunday. And clothes. This drape suit that helped him blend in on Chicago’s West Side stuck out too much around here. Besides, his jacket was ruined after sliding in the dirt with that little Amish girl.

That little girl was something else. So much like his younger sisters at that age...

Bram took off his felt hat and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to get the air to his scalp. Why did remembering his sisters make him think of a wife and a family?

The curve of Ellie Miller’s neck eased into his thoughts. He closed his eyes to capture the moment she’d faced him on her back porch. One strand of soft brown hair had escaped from under her kapp and fallen softly along the side of her face. She’d have to reach up and tuck it behind her ear. What would it feel like if he did it for her? He saw the smile she would give him as he caressed her cheek....

Bram stopped the direction of his thoughts with a firm shake of his head. He knew a woman like that wouldn’t even look at him. Not Bram Lapp. Not with his past. And not with the job he had to do. No, a woman like that wasn’t for him. He’d rather take his chances alone.

Wheels crunching through the gravel on the road behind him made Bram sidestep into the cover of some overhanging branches. Buggy wheels and horse’s hooves, not a car. He rolled his shoulders as he waited for the buggy to overtake him. He had to stop being so jumpy. No one knew he was here. Even Peters only had a vague idea of the direction he had gone.

“Bram!”

Bram waved as the buggy caught up to him, and his brother-in-law pulled the horse to a halt.

“You’ll be wanting a ride.” Matthew was a man to get to his point quickly.

“Ja, denki.”

The back of the buggy held boxes of supplies, and a frantic peeping rose from one as the buggy lurched forward.

“You bought some chicks?”

“Ja. I thought the Yoders might have some to trade for a couple bales of hay.” Matthew looked at Bram with a grin. “Annie loves getting new chicks.”

Bram let this idea settle in his mind. His sister hadn’t asked for chicks, as far as he knew. Matthew had gotten them because he thought Annie might like them. Was that how a real husband acted?

“Did you find the Stoltzfus farm?” Matthew asked.

“Ja. John had a nice gelding for sale, just as you said. I’ll pick him up on Tuesday.”

“I knew John would take care of you. He’s a good man.”

“Ja, he is.”

A good man. Bram hadn’t known too many of those. He slid a glance at Matthew. His little sister had found a good man.

Matthew pointed ahead with the buggy whip. “Looks like the Jackson place is for sale. It might be the kind of place you’ve been looking for.”

He stopped the horse at the end of the lane. The for-sale sign at the roadside looked new, but the graying barn and leaning fence posts were witness to the toll the recent hard times had taken on the English farmers. Forty acres, the sign said, along with the name of the bank that held the foreclosure. A too-familiar sign these past few years.

“The Jackson place? Do you know why they lost the farm?”

“I’m not sure, but I could see it coming. Ralph Jackson was too quick to spend his money as soon as he sold his crops, and then he’d buy the next year’s seed on credit. He only owned the place about five years, but it was long enough to work it into the ground.”

“It’s vacant. Let’s look around.”

Matthew pulled the buggy into the lane, and they walked to the barn. Bram examined the siding, the beams and the fences. The barn needed a lot of work, but the structure was sound.

“Forty acres is a good size,” Matthew said, looking at the land around them. “There’s a creek running through the meadow. Good cropland, too, with the right management.”

Bram turned to the house. It might be livable with some work, but he had the time. He needed a farm, and this one fit. All he had to do was go to the bank, sign the papers and hand over the cash, and it would be his. Another item checked off his list.

“The bank on the sign—isn’t it in Goshen?”

“Ja. I won’t be using my buggy tomorrow. You could take it into town if you want to talk to them about it.”

“I’ll go in the morning, first thing.”

Then again, maybe not first thing. This might be another opportunity to get John Stoltzfus firmly on his side, and he wasn’t one to pass up an opportunity. He could stop by the Stoltzfus farm before he headed into Goshen tomorrow. A little more grease wouldn’t hurt, and besides, old John was pretty savvy. He’d have some good pointers on how to get this farm back on its feet.

It wouldn’t hurt to get another glimpse of Ellie, either. Even if she wasn’t for him, she was sure a beautiful doll, and looking didn’t cost a thing.

* * *

Ellie’s toes churned the loose black soil between the strawberry rows, soil that ran in muddy rivers as she splashed water on each plant. Her practiced steps kept just ahead of the mud, and she tipped the watering can in time to an Englisch hymn she had learned in school.

“‘I once was lost, but now am found...’” The fourth row finished, she stopped to ease her aching muscles and looked back at her work.

Ach, even with daily watering, the plants were barely alive. This hot, dry spell was unusual for May. One good rain would set the young plants off to a good start, but as Ellie glanced up at the clear blue sky, she knew it wouldn’t happen anytime soon. Until then, it was up to her to keep them alive. She started down the next row, humming as she went.

A warm breeze carried her sisters’ voices to her and told her the scholars were home. Mandy and Rebecca ran up the lane to the big house, but Johnny trudged behind them, his head down. There must have been trouble at school again. Setting the watering can on the ground, Ellie closed the gate to the field and went to meet him as he walked alone to the Dawdi Haus.

“Hello, Johnny.” The six-year-old looked up at her when she spoke, his face streaked where one tear had escaped and made a track down his dirty red cheek. What happened this time?

“Are you all right?”

“Ja.” Johnny tipped his head down as he spoke, drawing the word out in his telltale sign that things were far from all right. There was only one way to get him to talk to her, and that was to pretend she didn’t notice his attitude.

“Run on into the house and change into your work clothes while I get your snack. Dawdi’s waiting for you in the barn.”

Johnny looked at the barn, then at his feet. His straw hat hid his face from her, but she knew the look he wore. Daniel had always had the same look when he’d tried to hide something from her, and Johnny was so much like his father.

“Johnny, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Dawdi doesn’t need me to help. He has Benjamin and Reuben. They always say I’m too little to do anything.”

“You may be littler than Benjamin and Reuben, but I remember when they were your age. They worked with Dawdi in the barn just like you do.”

“But it’s different for them. Dawdi is their dat.”

Ach, Johnny. What could she do for a boy who missed his own dat?

“Let’s go into the house and get your snack, then you can go out to the barn. Your dawdi likes having you work with him.”

Johnny took the first bite from his cookie while Ellie poured a glass of milk for him. Susan came out of the bedroom, her face flushed with sleep, and peered into Johnny’s face as she climbed into her chair.

“Johnny’s been crying.”

“Haven’t.” Johnny’s contradiction was muffled by the sugar cookie in his mouth.

“Ja, you have. You cried at school again.”

“Susan, that’s enough.” Ellie could see Johnny’s tears threatening to start again, so she pulled out a chair and sat next to him. “Were you dawdling again?”

Johnny took a drink of his milk. “I was looking out the window.”

Ellie sighed. Johnny was always looking somewhere else, forgetting whatever the task at hand should be, forgetting his schoolwork, his chores... She did the same thing, letting food burn on the stove while she looked out the window, letting the memories of her past drown the reality of the present.

“You have to pay more attention at school.” She forced the words out. It was her duty, even though she would rather just gather him into her lap the way she had when he was Susan’s age. She wished she could give him what he really needed, but that was impossible. She couldn’t erase the past year, and she couldn’t replace his father.

Levi Zook’s face chose that moment to intrude, but she turned the memory firmly away. The widower had made it clear he wanted Ellie to be the mother for his children. But with his own brood, Ellie knew he would never be able to fit Johnny into his life the way her son needed him to. If she ever married again, it would have to be to someone who would be able to take Daniel’s place in her life and her children’s lives...and there was no one who could do that.

Bram Lapp’s devilish grin popped into her thoughts. For sure, no Englischer could ever take her Daniel’s place, either.

Johnny stared at her, his eyes dark and distant, and she knew she had failed him again. When had her little boy turned into this sad, sullen child? She couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed, the last time she had seen him join in a game.

He stuffed the rest of the cookie into his mouth and went to the bedroom to change his clothes.

Ja, he needed his father. Someone like Daniel, who would give his life to a growing boy, who would teach him, protect him...

“Memmi,” Susan said, interrupting her thoughts. “That Englischer man that was here? He saved me from the horses.”

“Dawdi’s horses weren’t going to hurt you.” Ellie nibbled on a cookie. That same Englischer man had been intruding on her own thoughts all afternoon. Only a city man and her daughter would think Dat’s gentle draft horses would hurt them. They were too well trained.

“Ja, they were. When Henny Penny ran away, that man saved me and her from the horses.” Her eyes widened as she rolled her arm in the air. “He catched me and flew to the grass.” She took a drink of her milk and then looked at Ellie again. “He’s brave, Memmi.”

Ach, if she could have Susan’s confidence. If only she could just forget that Bram Lapp, but the Englischer’s grin danced in front of her eyes. He had really thought Susan was in danger from the horses. What kind of man would ruin his fancy clothes for a little girl and her pet chicken?

* * *

“It’s good to hear the children playing outside in the evening.” Mam rinsed another plate in the simple, immaculate kitchen of the big house.

“Ja, though I think they’ll be disappointed when they don’t find any lightning bugs.” Ellie dried the plate and placed it in the cupboard with the others. In Mam’s kitchen, nothing was ever out of place, from the dishes in the cupboard to Dat’s Bible and prayer book on the shelf behind his chair.

Mam chuckled. “Children always start hunting for them much too early in the year.” She scrubbed at a stubborn spot on the casserole dish. “What did you think about what Dat was telling us at supper?”

“About Bram Lapp? I don’t know.”

“It isn’t unheard of, what he’s doing.” Mam rinsed the casserole dish and laid it on the drain board.

“Just because it happens doesn’t mean that it’s right.” Ellie was surprised at the anger behind her words. “A person shouldn’t flip-flop when it comes to Gott.”

“I’ve seen others come to their senses after a taste of worldly life.” Mam swished the water in the dishpan and found a stray spoon.

“Twelve years is a bit more than a taste.”

They worked in silence for a few minutes while Ellie wiped off the table, thinking back twelve years. She had been fourteen, just finishing up at school and beginning to notice the boys, wondering which one would be her husband. If she had met Bram then, would he have given her one of his grins? The thought brought a smile to her face.

Bram must be a few years older than her. Since Dat had said he had gone to Chicago while in his Rumspringa, he would have been around seventeen back then, which would make him twenty-nine now. Amish men usually didn’t stay bachelors that long, but she didn’t know about the Englisch. Maybe their custom was to wait longer before marrying.

“Do you know his mother or any of his sisters?” Ellie straightened the chairs around the big table.

“I knew his mother years ago—we were girls together—but I lost touch with her after she married and moved to the Shipshewana district. I heard she passed on a few years ago, and her husband, too.”

“So if he’s from Shipshewana, why isn’t he settling up there?”

“Maybe he’s looking for a wife.”

Ellie shot a glance at her mother. For sure, the corners of her mouth were turned up in a sly grin. She sighed. Lately Mam thought every unattached man could be a new husband for her, but Ellie hadn’t told her that she never intended to marry again.

“We don’t know what he’s looking for. He could be here to...to...”

“To what?” Mam’s face was serene, innocent. How could she not know what the plans of an Englischer from Chicago might be? She must have heard the

stories about gangsters and speakeasies. There were all kinds of worldly evils in a city like Chicago.

“Ach, I don’t know.”

“Daughter, we need to give the man a chance. Dat asked us to treat him as a friend. Surely we can do that much.”

“Ja, I suppose...”

A friend. Ja, he was friendly enough, but could anyone trust an Englisch man? An outsider?

Chapter Three

The next morning’s sunshine brought a promise of another hot day to come. Why was it that weeds always grew no matter what the weather, while the garden plants wilted in the heat? Ellie’s hoe chopped through another clump of crabgrass growing between the rows of beans.

“See? This one is a dandelion.”

Ellie glanced at Susan and Danny just in time to see the baby put a yellow flower in his mouth.

“Ne, ne, don’t eat it!” Susan’s voice was full of disgust.

Ellie smiled as she watched Susan rescue the flower from Danny’s mouth. What a help she was. Daniel would have loved to see how his little dishwasher was growing.

The sound of buggy wheels in gravel interrupted her thoughts. If visitors were stopping by, Mam might need some help.

“Who’s that?” Susan asked.

“I’m not sure.” Ellie straightened up and shaded her eyes from the morning sun as the buggy stopped at the barn. “It looks like Matthew Beachey’s, but that isn’t Matthew driving.”

The Englischer, Bram Lapp, climbed out and headed for the barn.

“Ach, it’s that man who was here yesterday. He must want to talk to Dawdi again.”

She went back to her hoeing, but found herself working with only half her mind on the weeds.

Why was he here? He said he wasn’t going to pick up the horse until next week. And a buggy? It just didn’t fit with what she knew of the Englisch. Ja, she remembered, he wasn’t really Englisch, but if he wasn’t, then why was he still wearing Englisch clothes? But the Englisch didn’t drive buggies. When they drove a horse it was with a wagon or cart, not an Amish buggy. And if Dat was right and he was trying to become part of the community again, then why was he still wearing Englisch clothes?

Ellie gave a vigorous chop with the hoe that took out a dandelion and three bean plants. She was thinking in circles again. She stopped hoeing and sighed. Dat had asked them to welcome the man, but Ellie’s first reaction was to ignore him, just as she ignored all Englisch.

Ja, he was friendly and attractive. But so Englisch.

She tackled the weeds again.

The Englisch were just like these weeds. If you gave them a chance they might choke a person, distract them from the Amish life—the Plain life. She had seen it happen to other people who had opened themselves to their Englisch neighbors, but it wasn’t going to happen to her family. It didn’t matter that this man wanted to become Amish again. The Englisch influence was like a dandelion root: you could try to chop it out, but if you left even a little bit, it would grow again and take over. How could a person turn from one to the other?

Ellie moved to the next row. The squash vines were healthier than the beans. Once they grew a little larger, they would cover the ground with their broad leaves, and the weeds would lose their hold. That was what she loved about her life. Peace, order, community—the Ordnung—were a protective covering that kept worldliness from taking root. Once she got rid of these few small weeds, the squash vines would grow unhindered through the rest of the summer.

* * *

Bram headed to the buggy he had left outside the barn humming “Blue Moon” under his breath. He stopped with a soft whistle. If he wanted to keep on John Stoltzfus’s good side, he’d have to forget those songs for a while. In fact, he had a lot of habits from Chicago that would have to go, but that was part of the job.

John had given him some good, sound advice about the farm he wanted to buy. The man really knew his business. He’d answered Bram’s questions for almost an hour and never seemed to be in a hurry. The older man’s excitement about the prospects the farm held made Bram wish...what? That he wasn’t just buying it for a cover? That he could build it into the kind of place he could be proud of?

Bram stopped, resisting the urge to look back at the barn. With someone like John Stoltzfus around, he’d be able to make something of that farm. Who knew—with someone like John, maybe he could even make something of his life.

He pushed the thought away. Too little, too late. With any luck, he’d find Kavanaugh and be taking off before midsummer anyway.

When Bram reached the hitching rail, the two children at the edge of the garden caught his eye. That little girl was the one from yesterday. She was pretty cute when she wasn’t screaming her head off. He chuckled as he watched her try to catch a butterfly that danced among the flowers.

His breath caught when he saw the mother. Dressed in brown again today, Ellie had her back to him. He was glad he wasn’t one of the weeds she was hoeing. He’d never survive an attack like that. Her movements were brisk, businesslike, but at the same time Bram found himself caught up in the rhythm of her slim form as she worked.

How did she manage, raising her children without a husband? Bram understood the loneliness of living alone, but to add the responsibility of children to that was beyond him.

Bram found himself drawn to her like a butterfly to a flower. He shook his head. No, he couldn’t get involved with a woman like that. A woman like that meant home, responsibilities, commitment. A woman like that deserved better than what he could ever give her. A woman like that would be too hard to leave when his job here was over.

But still, he couldn’t ignore her. They were going to be part of the same church, the same community. They could at least be friends.

The little girl’s laughter carried toward him on the warm breeze, making his decision for him. He had to get to know her somehow.

* * *

A man’s laugh broke through Ellie’s thoughts, and her stomach flipped when she recognized the Englischer’s voice behind her. There he was again! That man was as persistent as a dandelion and much more dangerous.

He squatted next to the children at the edge of the garden, smiling as Danny held up a grubby fist full of wilted weeds and babbled at him. Susan, usually the one to hold back, had her hand on his knee, ready to add her part of the story.

Ellie gripped her hoe. She needed to stop this now, before he wormed his way into their lives, but how?

Bram turned to Susan, laying his hand on hers as he said something that made the girl giggle. Ellie’s breath caught at the rapt expression on Susan’s face. Somehow the man had broken through her shyness. She smiled as Susan laughed again and gave Bram the dandelion she held in her hand.

Ellie gave herself a mental shake. Ach, what was she doing? What nerve that man had, going behind her back to push his Englisch ways on her children!

Ellie dropped the hoe and hurried to the edge of the garden. She scooped Danny up from the ground and took Susan’s hand.

“Come, children, it’s time to go into the house.”

“You don’t need to take them in. Susan was just telling me about her pet chicken.” He smiled at her daughter, his hand resting on the girl’s shoulder. “She likes animals, doesn’t she?”

“As long as they aren’t horses.”

Bram’s dimple flashed, and Ellie started to return his grin before she caught herself. His face was so open and friendly, his blue eyes deep and inviting, his smile intimate as he watched her.

As lovely as a dandelion blossom in spring, she reminded herself. Lovely and insidious, with the ability to turn the whole garden to weeds. With an effort she held her shoulders a little straighter.

“I must take the children in now.” She kept her voice controlled and polite, then turned and walked away from him. Her face was burning. She hated to seem so rude, but an Englischer was an Englischer, and her job was to protect her children, wasn’t it?

The back door of the little house was safely closed before she let herself look through the small porch window. The man—Bram—stood where she’d left him, watching. Why did she feel as if she had taken the hoe to one of her squash plants instead of a dandelion?

“I like that man,” Susan said. “Can he come back again?”

“We’ll see. Let’s wash our hands, and then you can play with Danny while I make a pie for supper.”

Susan climbed onto her stool and pulled at the small hand pump that brought water to the kitchen sink.

“He’s a nice man.” She wiggled her fingers under the running stream.

“Ja, I guess.”

“He isn’t afraid of horses.” Susan’s eyes grew large as she said this. “He told me Dawdi’s horse isn’t scary, and he’ll let me pet it.”

“When will this be?”

“Next week. He said he’ll come back and I can pet Dawdi’s horse.”

Ellie dried Danny’s hands and set him on the floor.

“Susan, take Danny in the front room and help him find the cows.”

Ellie rubbed at the spot between her eyes where a headache was threatening. How had he convinced Susan to look forward to petting a horse?

Movement out by the garden drew her eyes to the window over the sink. He was leaving. She watched until the buggy left the drive and turned into the road. How dangerous was he? Ellie tucked a loose strand of hair under her kapp. Well, he was Englisch, wasn’t he?

Wasn’t he?

She got out a mixing bowl to make piecrust, then dug into the flour canister with more force than she meant to. Flour spilled onto the counter and floor, wasting it. Ellie bit her lip as tears threatened to come.

Why was a simple thing like making a piecrust so hard? Nothing had been right since Daniel died.

Ellie wiped up the spilled flour. She had to keep everything balanced, normal.

What was normal, anyway?

Just do what needs to be done; keep to the routine. That was something she could do. It was when something unusual happened that her life tilted.

That Englischer. He upset everything.

Ne, that was unfair. He was just the little nudge that sent her stack of balanced plates teetering. It wasn’t him; it was her own fault.

Ellie crumbled lard into the flour with her fingers and then added an egg and a teaspoon of vinegar.

Her thoughts found their familiar rut and followed it stubbornly. Her pride had urged Daniel to buy the extra land. The extra land that needed more work and new, green-broke horses.

Her pride, her hochmut, had caused her to plead with Daniel, to force him to see things her way. She had wanted the larger farm, and she had urged him to buy the new team so he could work more land. If she had just kept to her place, listened to him...but no, she had to keep after him until he agreed to her ideas. If it hadn’t been for her nagging, he never would have bought that half-trained team.

The half-trained team that spooked easily. Too easily. A loose piece of harness, a horsefly bite, a playful barn cat... She’d never know what had set them off that day. All she knew was by the time she’d reached the barnyard with Susan, Daniel was already under their hooves, his body broken and bloody.

Her stubbornness had cost her the only man she had ever loved.

She worked the stiff dough with her hands until it was ready to roll. The rolling pin spun as she spread out the crust.

Ach, ja, the punishment for her disobedience had been bitter.

But now, wasn’t she sorry? Hadn’t she prayed for forgiveness? Gott had to be pleased. What more could she do? She went to church, wore her kapp, followed the Ordnung...

The piecrust was a pale full moon. Ellie eased it off the wooden breadboard and laid it on the pie plate.

She must try harder. The Ordnung, the church rules, was there to keep her close to Gott. She just had to obey them perfectly, and everything would be all right.

No matter how handsome that Englischer Bram Lapp happened to be.

She knew what was most important.

The crust eased into the pan. She trimmed the edge with a knife and then crimped the edges with her fingers. Neat. Perfect. And empty.

* * *

Bram swayed with the buggy, letting the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves set the pace of his thoughts. He’d known moving back to Indiana wouldn’t be easy, but he’d never expected to plunge into a pool with no bottom. Nothing was the way he remembered it. The life he knew as a boy on his father’s farm held none of the peaceful order he had found here.

From the simple white house nestled behind a riotous hedge of lilacs to the looming white barn, the Stoltzfus farm was the image of his grossdatti’s home, a place he thought he had forgotten since the old man’s death when he was a young boy. A whisper of memory rattled the long-closed door in his mind, willing it to open, but Bram waved it off. Memories were deceptive, even ones more than twenty years old. They covered the truth, and this truth was that he had a job to do. Grossdatti and his young grandson remained behind their door.

But a question snaked its way up Bram’s spine. What would Grossdatti say if he could see his grandson now? Bram cast a glance down at the dust caked in the perfect break where his gabardine trousers met his matching two-toned wing-tip shoes. Fancy. Englisch. Twelve years as one of Kavanaugh’s boys had left their mark.

Was it those long-forgotten memories that kept bringing him back to the Stoltzfus farm? He liked the family. John seemed to be on his side, ready with advice, but the older man was almost too trusting. He’d hate to see what the Chicago streets would do to a man like that.

That little girl. Now, she was something, wasn’t she? Bram smiled. When she wasn’t screaming in terror, she was almost as pretty as her mother.

The smile faded. The mother. Ellie. She was worse than a bear defending her cubs. He had to get past that barbed-wire barricade she threw up every time he tried to talk to her. There was something about him that rubbed her the wrong way. If he figured that out, then maybe she’d be more civil.

Something else he couldn’t figure out was why he cared so much.

Bram chirruped at the horse to try to quicken its pace, but it had only one speed. The drive into Goshen was slower than he remembered, and it took even longer when he had to stop for a train at the Big Four Railroad crossing. The people in the cars stared at him as the train rumbled south toward New Paris and Warsaw.

Oh, what he wouldn’t give to trade places with them. But it would be no use. The mob would find him, even if he went as far as Mexico. No, it would be better to keep on course. He’d run across Kavanaugh eventually, then Peters and the bureau would do their job. Maybe Mexico would be a good place to think about after that.

The train disappeared around the bend, and Bram urged the horse up and over the tracks, then on into Goshen.

Main Street was still the same as it had been when he was seventeen. He let out a short laugh at the memory. He couldn’t believe he had once thought of this place as a big city.

There was something new. He pulled the horse to a stop in the shade at the courthouse square and stared. On the corner of Main and Lincoln, right on the Lincoln Highway, stood a blockhouse. A limestone fortress. A cop behind the thick glass had a view of the entire intersection.

Bram tied the horse to a black iron hitching post and then snagged a man walking by. “Say, friend, can you tell me what’s going on? What’s that thing?”

The man gave him a narrow look that made Bram aware of how out of place his expensive suit was in a town like Goshen. “That’s our new police booth. The state police built it to keep an eye on the traffic through town and to keep gangsters from robbing our banks.”

“What makes them think Goshen is their target?” If the state police were working the same angle as the bureau, it sounded like Peters had good reason to think Kavanaugh had come this way.

“You remember back in thirty-three, when Dillinger stole weapons and bulletproof vests from some Indiana police facilities?”

Bram nodded. Oh, yeah, he remembered. Kavanaugh had gloated about that coup for weeks, even though he hadn’t been in on the heists.

“Well, one of those police armories is east of here a ways, and the other two are just south of here, along State Road 15.”

Bram looked at the street signs. He had just driven into town on State Road 15.

“To get to any of those places from Chicago, the gangsters had to drive right through here, right through this intersection and right past our banks. And then when Dillinger and Pretty Boy Floyd hit the Merchant’s Bank in South Bend a couple years ago, we decided we had to do something to protect our town.” The man nodded toward the policeman in the booth. “All he has to do is radio headquarters, and this place will be swarming with troopers.”

“So does it work?” Could one cop in a blockhouse discourage the plans of a gang intent on robbing one of these banks? One lone cop wouldn’t stop the gangs he knew.

“It must.” The man gave Bram a sideways look before walking on. “We haven’t seen any gangsters around here.”

Bram had heard enough. He walked across the street and found a spot outside a barbershop on Lincoln two doors from the corner, next to the stairway that led down to the ground-floor establishment. His favorite kind of lookout. Have a quick cigarette, watch for a while, make sure he knew the lay of the land before making his move. He shook his head. He was here legitimately; he didn’t need to take these precautions. But still he lit his cigarette, bending his head to the match sheltered in his cupped hand. Habit kept him alive. The bank could wait ten minutes.

He watched the quiet town, pulling the smoke into his lungs. Traffic in Goshen’s main intersection rose and fell like the waves on North Beach. Businessmen, lawyers and shopping housewives followed the traffic signals with none of the noisy chaos of the Chicago streets.

He threw the cigarette butt on the ground and screwed it into the sidewalk with his toe. Time to talk to the man at the bank. He took a step away from his cover, but slid back again as a Packard drove by on Main, heading south at a slow cruise. Bram watched the driver. No one he recognized, but he’d know that Packard anywhere. It was Kavanaugh’s.

But the big question was, what was he doing here? Bram waited, watching the cop in the blockhouse. He was no fool. Even though the Packard was out of Bram’s sight, he could tell the cop was following its progress through town.

Bram counted to fifty—enough time for the Packard to make a slow cruise around the block and come back. Would he come back, or was he cruising through on his way to Warsaw or Fort Wayne?

The Packard eased into view again, slowing to a halt at the traffic signal. Bram stepped farther into the shadow of the doorway when he saw Kavanaugh clearly in the backseat of the Packard and Charlie Harris in the shotgun seat. They didn’t look his way, but kept their eyes on the blockhouse. The cop inside leaned into his radio microphone just as the signal turned green. The Packard roared north, back toward South Bend.

It looked as if that police booth worked. Bram gave a low whistle. He never would have believed it if he hadn’t seen it. Maybe Kavanaugh wouldn’t think hitting this place was worthwhile. Maybe they wouldn’t be back. Maybe Kavanaugh would keep heading east, and Bram could get out of this backwater and leave the past behind him for good.

Bram looked at the two banks, sitting diagonally across the intersection like two fat, stuffed ducks. Kavanaugh leave these two beauties alone just because of some cop?

Yeah, and maybe there were snowball fights in hell.

Chapter Four

Bram backed Matthew’s team into place early Wednesday morning, watching as they felt their way past the wagon tongue and stopped just as their tails met the singletree. This was a well-trained team, all right. He’d do nicely to look for one as good. That would be another day, though. Today he was looking at equipment at the auction house in Shipshewana.

The farm’s price had been lower than he expected, and he had needed to use only about half of his cash reserves. There was plenty left over to buy whatever else he needed to complete his cover.

He climbed into the wagon seat and then steadied the horses as they shifted, eager to be off. Now he had to wait for Matthew. That man spent so much time with his wife—if Bram didn’t know better, he’d think they had been married for only a few days instead of nearly a year.

His Dat had never spent more time in the house than he needed to. The house and kitchen were Mam’s place, and Dat stayed in the barn or the fields. Whenever Dat was in the house, Mam crept around as if she was walking on eggshells, but it didn’t do any good. It didn’t matter how hard she tried—she could never do anything good enough for Dat.

He rubbed his chin as Annie’s laughter drifted through the morning air. Mam and Dat had never acted like these two, that was for sure. He couldn’t remember ever hearing Mam laugh, or seeing her smile, but Annie brightened up every time Matthew walked in the door.

“Sorry,” Matthew said, finally reaching the waiting wagon.

“You’re sure Annie will be all right?” Bram laid on the sarcastic tone in his voice, but Matthew didn’t seem to notice.

“I think she’ll be fine for the day.” He picked up the reins, and the horses leaned into the harness with eager steps. “Mam is coming over later to help her get ready for tomorrow’s sewing frolic.” Matthew grinned at Bram. “Annie’s really looking forward to it.”

Matthew’s excitement was so contagious, Bram couldn’t help his own smile. He could do with a bit of whatever made his brother-in-law so happy.

“Giddap there, Pete. Come on, Sam.”

“You say this auction is big?”

“Ja, for sure it is. Every week, too. It’s one of the biggest in the state, and people come from all over.”

Bram shot a glance at Matthew.

“From all over? Englischers, too?”

“Ja, some Englischers, especially these last few years with the hard times. But mostly Plain folk—Amish, Mennonite, Brethren.”

Bram shifted his shoulders. His new Plain clothes felt comfortable, something that surprised him. He rubbed at the right side of his trousers, where he had inserted a pocket holster under the seam last night after Matthew and Annie had gone to bed. His pistol rested there, out of sight but not out of reach. Who knew who could be hiding in a crowd?

As they drew closer to Shipshewana, the traffic got heavier, and by the time they turned onto Van Buren Street, they were part of a line of wagons, buggies and cars headed for the field behind the sale barn. Matthew pulled the horses up at a shady hitching rail at the edge of the field. Auctioneers’ voices drifted out of the barn, quickening Bram’s heartbeat with their cadence.

“It sounds like things have started already.”

“Ja, the livestock auction started at six o’clock. The equipment sale starts at nine, so we’re in plenty of time.”

“Good. I’d like to look things over before the sale starts.”

Matthew led the way to a line of plows, cultivators and other farm equipment outside the sale barn. The first thing he needed to do was to plow his fields, then plant. Matthew said he’d loan Bram his team, but time was pressing. This work should have been done a month ago.

“Here’s a good-looking plow.”

Bram ran his hand over the seat of the sulky plow. The paint wasn’t even chipped. The blades had a few scrapes, but the whole thing looked new.

“This one hasn’t seen much use, has it?” Matthew walked around to look at the other side. “It’ll go for a pretty penny.”

That didn’t bother Bram. He had enough money for anything up for sale here.

“Good morning, Bram. Matthew.”

Bram turned to see John Stoltzfus heading their way. John’s familiar face sent a pleasant nudge to Bram’s senses, and he smiled. He couldn’t remember the last time being recognized didn’t send him reaching for his gun.

“Are you looking for a plow, Bram?”

Even though John’s voice was friendly, his question merely curious, Bram’s nerves arose. He did a quick check of the crowd around them. Everyone seemed to be focused on the auction and farm equipment. He turned his attention to John.

“Ja. I’m getting a late start on the farm, and I need everything.”

“You’re planning on buying all the equipment you need?”

“Well, I need a plow first. I’ll start with that.”

“It looks like you might have found one,” John said, taking a look at the sulky plow. “But don’t buy everything at once. You have neighbors, you know. I have a harrow you can use.”

“And you can use our planter,” Matthew said.

John turned to Bram. “All you need to do is let the church know, and we’ll have your whole farm plowed, planted, cultivated and harvested before the day is over.”

Matthew and John both laughed at this. Bram wanted to join in, but caution nagged at him.

“Why would you do that? Why would you loan me your equipment?”

“You’re one of us, son.” John’s words came with a puzzled frown. “Have you been gone so long that you’ve forgotten our way? How we work together?”

Forgotten? This wasn’t part of his memory of growing up here.

“No one ever helped my Dat, and I don’t remember him ever...” His words stopped as he saw the looks on the other men’s faces. John and Matthew exchanged glances. Had he said something wrong? Bram gave a scan to the milling farmers around them again.

“Bram, I’m sorry.” John glanced at him, then back at Matthew. “I forgot about your father...” He cleared his throat. “You can count on us to give you a hand anytime. Anything you need.”

Dat had never had the easy camaraderie with the men in their community that John and Matthew shared, but as a child Bram never knew why. Now he was beginning to figure it out. He swallowed hard as the memories came rushing out of the place where he had shoved them. Dat’s stash of moonshine in the barn, the weeks of missed church, the halfhearted repentance that was just enough to keep the ministers from putting Dat under the bann...

And most of all, Dat’s way of always finding something else to do whenever the men gathered together for a work frolic. The Lapps were never part of the community unless it worked into Dat’s plans.

He had shoved those memories away and locked the door as he stood on the roadside with his thumb out, heading west. Oh, yes, he remembered the stares, the whispers. This was one of the reasons he’d left.

Matthew put his hand on Bram’s arm, and he almost shrugged it off. He wanted to be angry, to shut out their pity, but he stopped himself. That was what Dat would have done.

“Let us give you a hand, Bram.”

Matthew’s face was grim, but there was no pity there, only the determined offer of an alliance.

Bram nodded, trying on the friendship offered. It felt good.

“Ja, I’d welcome the help.”

* * *

“How many quarts of rhubarb juice do you think we’ll end up with?” Lovina dumped another pile of cut rhubarb into the bowl.

“Whatever we end up with, you know it won’t be enough. Dat drinks a cup every day.” Ellie eyed the bowl. A few more inches, and it would be full enough to start the first batch of juice. She was glad that even though Lovina lived several miles away she was still willing to help with this chore every year. The two sisters had made the family supply of rhubarb juice for as long as she could remember—ever since they were the same ages as Mandy and Rebecca, for sure.

“The plants at our place aren’t growing as well this year. Noah says it’s a sign we’re in for another bad year.”

“And Noah is always right, of course.” Ellie looked sideways at Lovina. Even after four years of marriage, that telltale blush crept up her neck at the mention of Noah’s name. Lovina still thought her husband was the next thing to perfect.

“Ja, of course.” Lovina grinned at her, then went back to her cutting. “I do hope he’s wrong this time, though. Another year with no rain will be hard.”

Ellie’s thoughts went to the field of young strawberry plants. There had to be enough rain to keep them alive. She forced her mind in a different direction.

“What does Noah think about the new baby?”

“He’s on top of the world with this one. It was a long time to wait after Rachel before we knew this one was coming.”

“Not so long. Rachel is only three.”

“Ja.” Lovina paused.

Ellie glanced over to see a distant look on her sister’s face. Ach, she should never have mentioned it. Now Lovina was thinking about the one they had lost after Rachel. She always knew what Lovina was thinking, even though they weren’t as close as they had been as girls.

Lovina dumped another pile of cut pieces into the bowl. Ellie added her rhubarb and gave the bowl a shake to even it out.

“Looks like it’s time to start cooking the first batch.”

“Ja. I forgot to ask earlier. Do you have enough sugar?”

“Mam said to use sorghum. Sugar is too dear.” Ellie added water to the big kettle on her stove and then poured in a pint of the thick, sticky syrup.

“Not too sweet, remember.”

“Ja, I remember. You say that every year.”

“If I didn’t say it, it wouldn’t be right.”

Ellie stirred the mixture and smiled at her sister. She was right. They had to do the same things the same way every year. It was tradition. “Do you think Susan and Rachel will make rhubarb juice together when they’re grown?”

“That would be sweet, wouldn’t it?” Lovina smiled at the thought, then went back to cutting more rhubarb. “How are the strawberries doing?”

Ellie stirred the rhubarb. Dat wouldn’t let them hear the end of it if she let them scorch. “Truth to tell, I’m awfully worried about them. It’s been so dry.”

“Do you think they’ll last long enough for you to get berries from them next year?”

“I hope so. I can’t bear to think what might happen if they don’t....”

“What do you mean?”

Ellie looked at Lovina. She could always share everything with her sister, but should she share this problem now?

“Come on, Ellie. I know when you’re worried.” Lovina gave her a sudden, piercing look. “You spent all of your money on those plants, didn’t you?”

Ellie nodded and went back to stirring the rhubarb.

“You’re not in danger of losing your farm, are you?”

“Ach, ne. As long as the Brennemans continue to pay their rent, I’ll be able to keep up on the taxes. It will just delay moving back there. If the plants don’t make it, I’ll lose the money I spent on them plus next year’s income from selling the berries.”

“And the year after...”

“I hoped by that time we’d be back home.”

Lovina was silent as she sliced rhubarb.

“Ellie, I haven’t said anything before...”

Ellie looked at Lovina. “What is it?”

“It’s been almost two years...”

“Not yet. It’s been only a year.”

Lovina’s mouth was a firm line as she turned to her. “It’s been longer than that. It will be two years in September. You keep talking about moving home as if you think that will make everything the same as it was.”

Ellie turned back to the stewing rhubarb. “I just want to give the children what Daniel wanted for them.”

“And what is that?”

“You know, we’ve talked about it before.” Ellie turned to Lovina again and gestured with the spoon. “It’s what you and Noah have. Daniel never had a home. He was moved around between relatives until he came to Indiana to live with Hezekiah and Miriam. When he bought our farm, he was determined to give his children what he never had.”

“Ellie.” Lovina’s voice was quiet. “You don’t have to do it. Things are different now. Daniel is—”

“Daniel is gone. I know.” Ellie turned back to the rhubarb. She didn’t want Lovina to see the tears that threatened. “But I’m not, and his children aren’t. It’s up to me to see that his wishes are carried out.”

“Have you thought about what he’d want now?”

“What’s that?”

“I think he’d want something more important for his children than a farm. Remember, something else he never had was a father. Don’t neglect that, Ellie.”

Ellie kept her eyes on the pot of rhubarb. She couldn’t marry again. How could she bear to risk that again? Besides, her children had a father, didn’t they? She’d never let them forget Daniel.

Silence filled the kitchen, along with the sour-sweet fragrance of cooking rhubarb.

“I hear there’s a new man in the area.” Lovina kept her eyes on her knife as she said this.

“Where did you hear that?”

“Mam. Does he have a family?”

“Ne, he’s single.” Mam would have told her that, too. She knew what was on Lovina’s mind.

“Oh.” Lovina put a long lilt on that one word.

Ellie groaned to herself. What else could she talk about?

“Have you met him?” Lovina asked before Ellie could think of anything.

“Ja, I have.”

“And?”

“And he’s very Englisch.”

Lovina put her knife down and turned to Ellie. “Englisch?”

“Well, he dresses Englisch. Dat says he’s been living in Chicago.”

“Then what is he doing here?”

Gut, maybe this Englischer in their midst bothered Lovina as much as it did her.

“I don’t know, but Dat says he wants to be Amish again.”

“What does Dat think? Is he serious about this?”

“Ja. Dat says he is. He came by on Monday and bought Partner, that gelding Dat wanted to sell, and he was back again yesterday.”

“So what do you think? Is he nice?”

Ellie’s thoughts went to his eyes. She had been so rude to him, but those blue eyes had still smiled at her as if he could see right through her. Could he see what she was thinking? She felt her face grow hot. She hoped he couldn’t.

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t talked to him much.”

“Much? Then you have talked to him.”

“Ja, a little.”

“What does Dat say?”

“Dat likes him. He’s asked the family to give him a chance to be part of the community.” Ellie moved the pot of rhubarb to a cooler part of the woodstove as it started simmering. “But those Englisch clothes are so fancy, and he’s much too bold.” Ellie turned to Lovina. “You wouldn’t want an Englischer to spend too much time with Rachel, would you? Wouldn’t you be worried about how he might influence her?”

Lovina was silent as she cut the next bunch of rhubarb into one-inch pieces. She dumped them into the bowl, then turned to Ellie.

“I’d trust Dat. I know he’s never been wrong when it comes to a man’s character. Don’t you remember how everyone else thought Noah was wild and wouldn’t amount to anything?”

Ellie remembered. Lovina’s husband had almost left the community during his Rumspringa, but had returned to be baptized and then married Lovina.

“Dat never stopped having faith in him. Noah has told me that Dat’s support was the one thing that gave him the courage to come back home after his Rumspringa. Without someone believing in him...” Lovina picked up another bunch of rhubarb to cut. “Without someone believing in him, Noah might never have come home. If Dat thinks we should give this new man the same support, then I think we need to do it.”

Was Lovina right? Ellie cut her rhubarb in silence. Was Bram the invasive weed that would ruin their lives, or was she wrong?

She gave her head a decisive shake. As long as he wore those fancy clothes, she couldn’t trust him, no matter what Dat said.

* * *

“You got this plow for a good price.” Matthew ended his sentence with a grunt as he and Bram lifted the final piece of the dismantled equipment off the back of the wagon and onto Bram’s barn floor.

Bram lifted the tailgate and fastened the latch. “Ja, it didn’t go as high as I thought it would.”

Matthew took a wrench out of the toolbox behind the wagon seat and started reassembling the plow. Bram held the axle steady while Matthew replaced the bolts and tightened them.

“I saw Samuel while we were in Shipshewana.”

Bram didn’t answer Matthew. So what if his brother had been there? There had been no sign of Kavanaugh, and that was what mattered.

Matthew continued in his mild tone, “We could have taken the time to see him.”

“It would have been a waste.” Bram kept his eyes on the wheel he was adjusting.

“I know you have your differences, but it doesn’t seem right to ignore him.”

“My brother and I don’t have anything in common, that’s all.”

“Except you do.” Matthew was persistent. “You share your family, your parents, your history...”

Bram glanced at his brother-in-law. Did he have any idea what it was like to grow up as a Lapp?

“Ja, we share our history, and that’s the problem.” Bram tightened the last bolt and stood up to admire the plow. It was a beauty. He wiped his hands on a rag and turned to Matthew.

“Our Dat was an alcoholic. I didn’t like it, but that’s how he was, and that’s what killed him.” And what probably killed Mam, too, in the end. Bram rubbed a bit of grease from the side of his finger. “My brother is just like him, and if I never see Samuel again, I’ll be happy.”

Bram waited for the shock on Matthew’s face. Any Amishman would tell you that the attitude he had toward his brother was sinful, but Matthew’s face only showed sadness.

“Ach, Bram, Annie never told me all of this.”

“Ja, well, it happened when she was a little girl—and I don’t think the girls saw all of it. Mam did what she could to protect them.”

The silence that followed was as welcome as rain. Bram fastened the barn door and then climbed onto the wagon seat with Matthew for the drive back to their farm.

“How soon do you think you’ll be able to move onto this place?” Matthew asked.

“Next week, I hope.” Bram was glad to change the subject. “I’ve been working on the barn, and I’ll need to clean out the house before I move in.”

“It’ll be a good farm when you’re done.” Matthew slapped the reins over the horses’ backs. “You’ll be able to count on the church’s help with the farmwork, Bram.”

“Ja, that will be good. I appreciate it.” At least he thought he did. He liked to work alone.

Bram glanced sideways at Matthew. What kind of man had his sister married? A good man, for sure, but he was young. Oh, in years he was almost as old as Bram, but he seemed so naive about the world. All these Amishmen did. Compared to the men in Chicago...well, it was a good thing they’d never meet. These poor fellows wouldn’t survive on the streets.

Bram rubbed at the grease on his finger. He had survived, but he had been tougher at seventeen than Matthew was in his twenties. Maybe having a father like his wasn’t such a bad thing.

* * *

“Lovina, you be sure to take some of these cookies home to Noah.” Mam took another panful of snickerdoodles out of the oven.

Ellie took in a deep breath full of cinnamon and sugar. No matter how old she was, Mam’s kitchen would always be home.

“Were the children good for you today?” Ellie couldn’t resist taking a cooled cookie from the counter.

“Ach, ja. They are always the best when they’re with their grossmutti. They play so well together.” Mam slid another cookie sheet into the oven. “Of course, I haven’t seen anything of them once the girls got home from school. They’re all in the backyard.”

“I must be getting home.” Lovina found an extra plate and put some cookies on it. “Noah will be waiting for his supper.”

“We’ll see you at Matthew Beachey’s tomorrow?”

“For sure. I wouldn’t miss a frolic for anything.”

Ellie put down the cookie she was nibbling. “A frolic?”

“Ja,” Mam said as she put some more cookies on Lovina’s plate. “Remember? We’re having a sewing frolic for Annie Beachey. It’s their first little one.”

Ach, how could she forget? The cookie suddenly lost its flavor. She had let this frolic slip her mind, like most occasions that meant facing a crowd of people.

“You’re coming, aren’t you, Ellie?” Lovina paused, her hand on the door. “It’s been a long time since you’ve been to any of the frolics or get-togethers.”

A long time? Only since Daniel’s death.

“We’ll get her there.” Mam put her arm around Ellie’s shoulders and gave her a quick hug. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Ellie waited until Lovina was out the door before turning to Mam. “I don’t think I’ll go tomorrow.”

“Why ever not? And don’t try to give me the excuse that Danny’s too young. He’ll be fine.”

“I...” How could she tell Mam how it felt to be in a crowd? She had never liked large groups of people, but lately she was more than just uncomfortable. The thought of all the women talking, laughing, staring at her... Church was bad enough.

“I just don’t feel like going.”

Mam gave her a long look. “I know you don’t feel like it, but you’ve waited long enough. I haven’t pushed you, but perhaps I should have. You need to do this, Ellie. You need to be with your church family. The longer you put it off, the harder it will be.”

Mam was right, of course.

“Ja, I’ll go.” Ellie sighed, but with the sigh came a stirring of something she hadn’t felt for a long time. She would go. She had always enjoyed her friends before, hadn’t she? Perhaps she would even have fun.

Chapter Five

As soon as the scholars left the next morning, Ellie and Mam were off to Matthew Beachey’s in the family buggy.

“Who will be there, Memmi?” Susan sat on the front bench seat between them, her legs swinging with the buggy’s movements.

Ellie hesitated, her throat dry, and Mam answered. “Rachel will be there and most of the children from church.”

Susan’s anxious face mirrored her own, and Ellie gave the little girl’s knee a reassuring squeeze. They both shared an intense shyness around groups of people. Should they have stayed home after all?

Matthew Beachey came out of the barn to greet them as Mam drove into the yard.

“Good morning.” He reached for Brownie’s bridle. “I’ll take care of the horse for you while you go on into the house.”

“Denki, Matthew.” Mam returned the young man’s smile. “You’re keeping busy away from the hen party, are you?”

Matthew’s natural laugh put Ellie at ease. He was always friendly and ready for fun—no wonder everyone liked him.

When Bram Lapp walked out of the barn behind Matthew, Ellie looked away and straightened Susan’s kapp. She had forgotten he might be here.

“Good morning, Bram.” Mam’s voice was friendly as usual, as if seeing Bram Lapp in the Beachey’s farmyard was an everyday occurrence.

“Good morning.” He answered Mam, but when Ellie finished fussing with Susan and glanced his way again, he was looking directly at her. His eyes were dark, unsure. Ja, he remembered how rude she had been the last time they’d talked. She looked over to Mam for help, but she was deep in conversation with Matthew.

Bram stepped closer and reached out to help Susan down from the buggy. Before Ellie could stop her, Susan jumped into his arms, and he gently lowered her to the ground. He lifted his hands up for Danny, but when Ellie held the baby close as she stepped down on her own, he just reached into the back of the buggy for her sewing bag and handed it to her.

“I hoped you would come to the frolic.” Bram stood close to her, Susan’s hand in his.

Ellie stared at his clothes—his Plain clothes. His brand-new shirt and plain-cut trousers were exactly like the ones all the men in the district wore, complete with the fabric suspenders and broad-brimmed hat. He didn’t look Englisch anymore, and he didn’t talk Englisch.... Her resolve wavered.

How would she answer him? His nearness was forward and unsettling, but she couldn’t help wishing for more. What would she do if he gave her that secretive grin again? The thought brought on a flurry of butterfly wings in her stomach.

“I forgot you’d be here.” Her face grew hot as soon as the rude words left her mouth. Why couldn’t she talk to him like she would Matthew, or anyone else, for that matter? Every time she spoke with him, her tongue seemed to belong to someone else.

Ellie reached for Susan, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“Have I done something wrong? I know we only met a couple days ago, and you don’t know me, but I’d like to change that.”

His hand warming her skin through the sleeve of her dress prickled her nerves to awareness of just how long it had been since she had felt a man’s touch. She should turn away, let his hand slide off her arm, move to a more appropriate distance, but she was frozen in place.

She glanced up at his face. At her look, a smile spread, flashing the dimple in one cheek and encouraging her own mouth to turn up at the corners. She looked down, her face flushing hot again. What was wrong with her? She was acting like a schoolgirl!

Bram seemed to take her hesitation as an encouraging sign and stepped closer. Ellie found herself leaning toward him to catch the familiar scent of hay mingled with shaving soap, and she breathed in deeply.

Ja, just like a schoolgirl. What must he think of her?

“I’ve bought a farm.” His voice was low, the words for her alone. “It’s the Jackson place, just a couple miles west of your father’s farm. Would you like to see it sometime?”

The Jackson farm? Ellie knew that farm—it was an Englisch farm. A blast of cold reality shoved away all thoughts of dimples and hay and...soap. The telephone lines strung from the road to the house on that farm were the fatal testimony. Her shoulders drew back as her chin lifted, and his hand fell to his side.

“Ne, Denki,” she answered as firmly as she knew how. “I’m already familiar with that farm.”

She took Susan’s hand as Bram stepped away, her face flushing hotter than ever. She couldn’t have been ruder if she had slapped him in the face. How could she be so harsh? But an Englisch farm? Resolve straightened her spine with a snap.

“Come, Susan, it’s time to go in the house.”

Ellie followed Mam up the path to the kitchen door, anxious to get away from those intense blue eyes. She struggled to regain her composure before she reached the porch steps. How could one man upset her so?

* * *

Bram blinked as Ellie walked away. What happened? One minute her arm was lying warm and sweetly soft under his hand as she leaned toward him while they talked, and then those shutters had slammed tight again.

Matthew stood next to him with a grin on his face, watching him stare toward the house. “I don’t think she likes you. What did you do to her?”

Bram frowned as he turned and checked the buckle on the harness. “Nothing. We were just talking.”

“She’s been widowed for almost two years now.”

“Ja, that’s what her father told me.”

“So when will you ask her to go out with you?”

Bram shot a look at his brother-in-law. Matthew’s smile hadn’t left his face. One thing about married men was that they were usually quick to make sure every other man ended up in the same trap.

“What makes you think I want to go out with her?”

Matthew didn’t respond. He just grinned, waiting for Bram’s answer.

“All right. I just did. She turned me down flat.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. She’ll come around.”

Bram took the horse’s bridle and started leading him to the hitching rail on the shady side of the barn. “I didn’t say I was giving up, did I?”

The problem was he should give up. He should let that prickly woman go her own way. He didn’t need her. He didn’t want her.

Bram went into the workshop next to the barn and found the broken harness strap Matthew had told him about. He turned the piece over in his hands. It was in good shape other than that one break.

Nothing felt as right as when he worked with harness leather. He loved this peaceful pleasure that came from handling the supple straps and the satisfaction that came with taking something that had been destroyed and making it whole again. Scarred, perhaps, because you could always see the repair, but useful once more and stronger than it had been.

He started in on the harness, first taking his pocketknife and cutting the frayed edges off the broken ends of the leather. As he worked, children’s laughter drifted in through the shop window from the backyard, and he shifted to get a view of the sandbox from his stool at the workbench. Girls’ pastel dresses and boys’ shirts in the same hues filled the yard. Older ones played a game of Duck, Duck, Goose. He looked for Susan, but she wasn’t among them.

How long had it been since he’d heard children playing without traffic noise mingled with their harsh voices?

Almost as long as he had missed the scent of a woman. A real woman, not girls like Babs, with her cloying odor of dying flowers and smoky bourbon. Babs had never looked at him with the cold eyes Ellie Miller used. No, she had been more than willing to press her silken dress against him, batting her heavy black eyelashes.

His eyes narrowed. Babs made sure he knew what she wanted—or what Kavanaugh paid her to provide—and he was glad he had never taken her up on her offer. He had never spent more time with her than an occasional dinner or as a date to one of Kavanaugh’s shin-digs. Something about the girl had turned his stomach. Not just her—black-haired Cindy before her and Madge before her. Kavanaugh kept his boys supplied with women.

He took a deep breath, dispelling the memory.

Thoughts of Ellie swirled into his mind to take its place. She had leaned toward him, coming within inches of his chest. He could have reached out for her, pressing her slight form against him while he kissed her...but that would have ruined everything. A woman like Ellie would never put up with what the girls in Chicago begged for. He pushed the thought away.

Her arm under his hand had felt alive, firm, capable. Taking another deep breath, he tried to recapture the scent of...what? Just soap and water? Whatever it was, the memory clung to him.

Keep focused.

Bram shaved the two ends of the leather strap with his knife, shaping them to overlap each other. If he did find Kavanaugh, the last thing he needed was for someone to get in the way. The last thing he wanted was for someone to get hurt.

Taking the awl from Matthew’s tool bench, he drilled holes through the splices, lining up the shaved ends so they would overlap in a solid, smooth join.

John Stoltzfus was a good man, and he liked Bram. That was a step in the right direction. He should spend more time with him, but that would mean spending more time around Ellie and her children.

Bram rummaged in a jar for a couple rivets and fitted them into the holes.

That Susan—yeah, she was something. The way she looked up at him with those solemn brown eyes as if he was some sort of hero pulled at his heart.

He glanced through the window at the playing children again. Susan had joined the game, her light green dress and white kapp mingling with the other pastels. She laughed as she played, her face sweet and innocent.

A steel band twisted in his gut. What kind of hero could he be to a little girl?

He found Matthew’s tack hammer hanging on the wall. A sharp rap sealed the first rivet. He shifted to the second rivet but stopped.

If Ellie looked at him the way Susan did, what would he do then?

His world tilted for a brief moment, then righted. He gave his head a shake and then drove the hammer home on the second rivet.

Focus. Play the part. Lie low under his cover until his job was done, then maybe he could...what? Court her?

Forget her. That was what he needed to do. God help him if he let himself fall for the woman.

* * *

Ellie took a deep breath as she laid her hand on the knob of the Beacheys’ back door, listening to the

women’s voices on the other side. Facing Bram Lapp would be easier than stepping through this door.

“Ellie, you can do this.”

Ellie turned to see Mam’s eyes filled with understanding. The soft words gave her strength.

The crowd of chatting women parted to welcome them as the door opened. Susan clung to Ellie’s skirts as they stepped in. Ellie wished she had somewhere to hide, but it was too late. Mam had already set her pies on the table and was greeting her friends.

Annie Beachey came over to Ellie as she lingered just inside the door.

“Ellie, I’m so glad you could come!”

Ellie smiled in spite of her churning stomach. Who could resist Annie’s contagious happiness? Although how she could be so merry when she must be uncomfortable with the growing baby most of the time was beyond her.

Annie took her bonnet to the back bedroom, and Ellie stepped farther into the kitchen. Sally, her younger sister, came over and took Danny from her arms.

“I’ve missed this little man.”

Sally’s easy confidence was just the balm Ellie’s nerves needed. This might be a fun outing after all.

“Well, if you hadn’t married last fall, you could have been cuddling him all winter.”

Sally looked up from nuzzling Danny’s neck. “Ach, sister. Then I wouldn’t be looking forward to my own boppli, would I?” Sally turned to Susan. “The other children are playing out in the yard with Dorothy Ann.”

“She’ll join them soon, I’m sure.” Ellie patted Susan’s back, knowing these few minutes of shyness would soon be over.

Sally leaned closer to Ellie, lowering her voice. “I saw the way Levi Zook kept watching you a week ago at Meeting. I think he’s still sweet on you.”

Ellie’s face grew warm with embarrassment. Did everyone know about his attentions to her? “I’ve told Levi we’re not suited for each other. I don’t know why he’s so persistent.”

“I do,” said Lovina as she joined Sally and Ellie. “I heard his sister from Middlebury wants him to send his younger girls to live with her, and he’s desperate to find a new wife so he can keep his family together.”

“Ja, well, I can understand why he wants a new wife, but it’s not going to be me.” Ellie turned to greet Lovina with a smile. “We’ll be sewing for your little one next.” She nodded at Lovina’s expanding waist.

As Sally and Lovina started chatting about morning-sickness remedies, Ellie stepped back, feeling the wall that had risen between them. She and her sisters had been inseparable as girls, and her marriage hadn’t lessened that close bond. Not until the past couple years.

Now that she was a widow, and they had their husbands... She crossed her arms in front of her, hiding her slim form. She could have been expecting another baby, too, if—well, if things had been different.

Ne, she had to stop thinking this way. Things were what they were, and it was Gott’s will. A faithful, obedient woman accepted Gott’s will, didn’t she?

And if it was Gott’s will that she accept Levi Zook as her new husband? Ellie suppressed a shudder. She still believed two people should love each other if they married, and as kind and faithful as Levi was, she didn’t love him.

Ellie followed some of the other women as they moved toward the front room of the house, where Annie had arranged things for the frolic. A table was set up for cutting material, with several lengths of muslin and flannel ready to be cut into the pieces they would sew into gowns and diapers for the new baby. The room was arranged with chairs in a circle for sewing and visiting. Before long, the four women who had taken the job of cutting the material had pieces ready for sewing, and the rest of the women settled in with their needles and thread.

When Susan went off with the other children, Ellie chose a chair near her sisters, where Danny was still happy on Sally’s lap. Taking the next available diaper, one of many they would be making today, she started in on the simple hem. Over the hum of conversation, she heard Bram’s name mentioned.

“What did you say his name is?” Minnie Garber asked Annie.

“Bram—short for Abram. He’s my brother who is staying with us for a time.”

What did Annie think of her Englisch brother? Ellie hated the thought of one of her brothers jumping the fence, leaving their family and their ways behind. How would she treat them if they had left and then wanted to return?

“I didn’t know you had another brother,” Minnie went on. That woman was never shy when it came to gossip.

“Bram has been gone for quite a few years—”

“Gone?” Minnie interrupted. The rest of the room quieted as the other women listened to their conversation.

“Ja.” Annie stopped and looked around the room of women waiting to hear what she had to say. “He left home twelve years ago but came back recently. He just bought a farm and will be settling here.”

“Twelve years?” Minnie’s voice was incredulous. “Where was he all that time? Did he live in Ohio? Pennsylvania?”

“Um, ne.”

Ellie’s heart went out to Annie. It was obvious that she wasn’t interested in gossiping about her brother.

“He was in Chicago,” Annie finally said. Her words were met with silence.

“Chicago?” Minnie sounded stunned.

“Ja, but he’s home now and wants to be part of our community.” Annie looked from one face to another. Most of the women stared at the sewing in their hands, but Mam smiled at Annie, encouraging her.

Then Minnie voiced what Ellie had been thinking.

“Won’t he have trouble giving up his Englisch ways after all this time?”

“He’s shedding himself of them as quickly as he can.” Annie sounded relieved, as if she was happy to give Minnie an acceptable answer. “When I finished his new clothes yesterday, he wouldn’t rest until he had put them on.”

“And you say he bought a farm?”

“Ja, the Jackson place on Emma Road. He spent all Tuesday afternoon and yesterday tearing out the telephone lines. He’s planning to move there next week.”

One of Minnie’s daughters joined in the conversation from the other side of the circle.

“So all he needs now is a buggy and a wife!”

Good-natured laughter followed her comment, and the conversation shifted to the coming wedding of Minnie’s third daughter. Ellie concentrated on finishing the hem on the diaper, letting the conversation flow around her.

Bram was turning the Jackson place into an Amish farm? Could she have been so wrong about him? From what Annie said, he did mean to give up all his Englisch ways. If that was true, then Dat had been right all along.

Could Minnie’s daughter have been right, too, that he was looking for a wife?

She pricked her finger with the needle, and the pain brought a start of tears to her eyes.

If he was, he wouldn’t have any problems finding one. He was no Levi Zook.

But it for sure wasn’t going to be her. No man was going to take her Daniel’s place.

Chapter Six

“It was a robin. I know it was,” said Susan. She nodded to emphasize her certainty.

“It wasn’t a robin—it was a blackbird.” Johnny’s retort was tinged with disdain.

“He had red on him.”

“It was a red-winged blackbird. Robins have red breasts, not red shoulders.”

Ellie touched Johnny’s knee to quiet him before the argument gained strength. She should reprimand them, but on Sunday mornings she just wanted quiet.

The buggy swayed in rhythm to Brownie’s trotting hooves. It wasn’t as crowded now that Reuben was old enough for his own buggy. Dat had agreed he could drive it to Welcome Yoder’s for church, and now the two boys were ahead of them on the road, Reuben driving at the same sedate pace. Soon he’d be courting, if he wasn’t already, and next Benjamin. At least Mandy and Rebecca were still at home.

Ellie listened to her sisters’ chatter. She had been the same way with Sally and Lovina once, their three heads together, sharing their secrets, their dreams. Mandy and Rebecca would have the same sweet girlhood memories.

“There’s another robin!”

Johnny looked where Susan pointed. “Ne, that one’s a blue jay. See how big he is? And his blue feathers?”

Susan didn’t argue, but kept her eyes on the side of the road.

Ellie’s thoughts went back to Mandy and Rebecca. She’d had that same anticipation when she was their age. Riding to church was an adventure, with Lovina giggling about the boys they would see and Sally bouncing with anticipation of seeing her best friend again. She had looked forward to the singing, even the long sermons, and the fellowship. What had changed?

She never had the urge to kick against the restraints of the church that some people talked about. The Ordnung was safe. It provided security against the changing world. Even when her friends tried living outside the protective fence of the Ordnung during their Rumspringa, Ellie never saw the lure. She knew where she belonged.

Bram Lapp had left the community once.... What would it be like to leave her loved ones behind, to take the children somewhere and start fresh where no one knew her? The thought pressed against her heart, stopping her breath. It would be like dying. Ne, she could never leave her home, her family.

Dat turned south at the corner, and Ellie closed her eyes against the morning sun hitting her face.

She must work through this emptiness somehow. Church for her meant nothing more than a long day with a headache. The children needed tending, and every week it was harder to keep them still during the meeting. The hymns were so long, the prayers drawn out. There had been a time when the singing was her favorite part of a Sunday. Now she just waited for it to be over.

“Is that one a robin?”

“Ja, see his red breast?”

Ellie gave herself a mental shake. Her children needed her. A pasted-on smile was better than none, and a kind word to a friend could help lift her spirits. But how many more church Sundays were going to pass before the smile became genuine again?

Dat turned the buggy into the driveway of the Yoders’ farm, joining a line of other buggies. When they approached the sidewalk leading to the house, Ellie saw the buggy in front of Reuben’s stop. Matthew Beachey jumped down, then reached back to help Annie. He walked with her to the lines of people waiting to go into the house while their buggy drove on.