A Sister's Hope Read online

  Martha groaned and rolled over in bed. She’d been dreaming about someone shooting a gun and chasing after Luke. She rubbed her forehead, trying to clear her mind. It hadn’t been a dream. She’d heard a gun go off; she was sure of it.

  Martha scrambled out of bed and raced over to the window. Someone stood in the pasture where Dad’s beef cows were kept. She squinted against the early morning light. It looked like Dad, and he seemed to be bent over something. Alarm rose in her chest. Had someone been shot?

  She slipped into her sneakers, threw on her robe, and dashed from the room. She met Mom in the hallway at the bottom of the stairs. “What’s going on? I thought I heard a gun go off, and when I looked out the window, I saw Dad in the pasture.”

  “It was gunfire,” Mom said. “Your daed thought someone might be hunting on our property. Against my wishes, he went outside to check on things.”

  Martha raced out the back door, tore across the yard, and headed straight for the pasture. She found Dad kneeling in front of a cow. He looked up and slowly shook his head. “It’s been shot dead, along with four others.”

  Martha gasped then covered her mouth with her hand, horrified. It was bad enough that five of Dad’s prized cows were dead. What if whoever had shot the cows had been lurking in the field last night when she and Luke had been looking for clues? If the shooter had discovered them, their lives could have been in danger.

  Martha touched her father’s trembling shoulders. “Why would someone want to shoot your cows?”

  “Why would they have done any of these terrible things to us?” He slowly shook his head. “Someone’s got a grudge against me. The question is who?”

  A shiver shot through Martha’s body. She rubbed her hands briskly over her arms and drew in a deep breath. Luke had a grudge against Dad—or at least, Dad thought he did. If she told Dad about Luke being here last night and that the two of them had been looking for clues, would he believe her? Or would Dad think Luke had been skulking around, waiting to attack?

  “Will you let the sheriff know about this?” Martha asked.

  He grunted. “Wouldn’t have to if he’d been doing his job better. After what happened to my shop on Thanksgiving, I figured he’d be keeping a close watch on our place like he said he would.”

  “The sheriff can’t be everywhere at once.”

  “Maybe not, but he’s got deputies working for him. You’d think with my shop being blown to bits just a couple of days ago, someone would at least have been keeping an eye on our place. Every morning when I get out of bed, I ask myself, ‘What will this day bring?’ And each time there’s another attack, I try to keep the faith, but it’s getting harder to believe the attacks will ever come to an end.”

  Martha cringed when she heard the anger and pain in her father’s voice. Despite his resolve to remain hopeful that the attacks would stop, he was obviously feeling discouraged. If only she could say something to make him feel better. If she could just do something to solve the mystery of who was behind these horrible attacks.

  “Was is letz do?” Mom asked breathlessly as she stepped up to Martha.

  “I’ll tell you what’s wrong here—someone’s shot five of my beef cows!” Deep lines etched Dad’s forehead, and his clenched jaw revealed the extent of his despair.

  Mom gasped as she stared at the cows lying in the pasture. “Ach! Roman, why would anyone do such a terrible thing?”

  He rose to his feet. “You know why, Judith. Someone’s got an axe to grind against me.”

  “You don’t know that,” she said with a shake of her head. “This might have been done by that reporter fellow. Grace still thinks he came to Holmes County in order to make her pay for breaking up with him when she was going through rumschpringe.”

  “I don’t think so. If it was Gary Walker, and he was only after Grace, then only she would have been attacked.” Dad touched Mom’s arm. “Think about it. Most of the attacks have been done to our property, not hers.”

  “But some were done to Grace,” Martha spoke up. “Don’t forget about her and Cleon’s house being burned.”

  “That’s true, but most of the attacks have been done here.” He motioned to the dead cows. “Guess I’d better notify the sheriff about this mess, and then I’m going to see if some of our friends and neighbors will help me cut and process these critters so I can share with others. No point in all this good meat going to waste.”

  Mom turned toward the house, her shoulders slumped. “I’ll be in the kitchen fixing breakfast.”

  Martha looked at Dad. “Do you need my help, or should I go up to the house with Mom?”

  “There’s not much you can do here,” he replied. “You may as well help your mamm.”

  Martha nodded and hurried off. She stopped by the barn to check on her dogs. Finding them to be okay, she went straight to the house.

  When she stepped into the kitchen, the savory aroma of sizzling bacon filled the room. Ruth was busy setting the table, and Mom stood in front of the stove.

  “What can I do to help?” Martha asked.

  Mom turned, and her hand trembled as she pushed a wayward strand of hair away from her face. “If you’d like to get out some eggs and scramble them in a bowl, it would be much appreciated.”

  Martha nodded. “Jah, sure, I can do that.”

  Steam rose from the whistling teakettle, and the heat of the kitchen brought a film of perspiration to Mom’s flushed cheeks. She turned back to the stove and turned the bacon.

  As Martha headed to the refrigerator, Ruth stepped up to her and whispered, “Mom told me what happened to Dad’s cows. She’s really upset about this.”

  “There’s no need to whisper,” Mom said, “and you needn’t talk about me behind my back. I’m not going to fall apart, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  Ruth looked at Martha and shrugged her shoulders. Martha gave a slow nod. She knew her sister was probably thinking the same thing she was: that despite Mom’s denial, she was definitely not herself.

  “You look like you could have used a few more hours sleep last night,” John said when Luke entered the shop, yawning. “What’d you do—stay up all night counting sheep?”

  Luke couldn’t tell John he’d been over at Roman’s place in the middle of the night searching for clues, so he merely shrugged and said, “Yeah, something like that.”

  John stretched his arms over his head and yawned. “Just looking at your bloodshot eyes and dark circles makes me feel tired.”

  Luke snorted as he plucked off his stocking cap. “I don’t think I look all that bad.”

  “Well, as long as you can give me a fair day’s work, I don’t care what you look like.” John motioned to the rocking chair he’d been working on. “Speaking of work, I’d like you to go in the back room and get some coffee going while I get back to work on this old gem.”

  Luke nodded and headed for the back room. He was happy working here and didn’t mind when John asked him to do the grunt work. At least John didn’t yell at him the way Roman used to.

  Luke got the coffeemaker going and thought about the night’s activities while he waited for the coffee to brew. I wonder what Martha did with that wrench we found. It was sure stupid of me to pick it up. I wonder if Martha will keep her promise and not tell anyone about the wrench.

  As Martha entered the barn to get her horse ready to go to Irene’s that afternoon, she looked up at the hayloft and thought about the wrench she’d hidden there. Had she been right to agree not to tell anyone about it? The wrench did have Luke’s fingerprints on it.

  Could Luke have tampered with Dad’s compressor and dropped the wrench in the field as he was fleeing? Was that why he’d picked it up and made such an issue of his fingerprints being on it?

  Martha remembered the expression on Luke’s face when she’d asked if he would have blown up Dad’s shop. He’d looked at her as if she’d asked if he would consider lighting his own house on fire.

  She grimaced. What was the
re about Luke that made her emotions so unstable? Trust one minute, confusion and mistrust the next. She had to make up her mind whether she trusted him or not. She couldn’t keep changing her mind like this.

  “I trust Luke,” she murmured as she led Gid out of the barn. “I have to trust him.”

  Martha had just finished hitching her horse to the buggy when Aunt Rosemary’s car pulled into the yard. “Where’s your dad?” Aunt Rosemary called to Martha as she stepped out of her vehicle. “I have something for him.”

  “He’s in the barn with Cleon. They’re taking the hide off a couple of his cows.”

  Aunt Rosemary quirked an eyebrow. “He’s butchering cows? I figured he’d be busy trying to set up his shop in the barn. That is where he plans to do his woodworking until he can build a new shop, right?”

  Martha nodded. “Five of Dad’s beef cows were shot and killed early this morning.” She motioned to the pasture out back. “Abe Wengerd and Cleon’s brother, Ivan, are out there loading the rest of the cows on one of our wagons.”

  “What?” Aunt Rosemary’s jaw dropped.

  “It’s true. We heard shots while we were still in bed, and then Dad discovered the cows lying dead in the pasture.”

  “I can’t believe this.” Aunt Rosemary shook her head. “First your dad’s shop, and now his cows? How much more can your family take?”

  “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

  Aunt Rosemary opened her purse and removed her cell phone.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m calling the sheriff; that’s what I’m doing.”

  Martha shook her head. “You don’t need to do that. Dad called Sheriff Osborn from our phone shed earlier this morning, and the sheriff came out right away.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. It’s about time my brother decided to notify the sheriff right after one of these attacks has occurred.”

  “Dad had the sheriff called when the shop blew up. Finding some of his cows dead this morning only magnified his feelings of frustration.”

  “He has good reason to be frustrated.” Aunt Rosemary started for the barn. “Maybe when he sees what I brought him, he’ll feel a little better about things.”

  When Rosemary entered the barn, she spotted Roman and Cleon removing the hide from one of the cows hanging from the rafters.

  “I just talked to Martha,” she said, stepping close to Roman. “I’m sorry about your cows.”

  He shrugged. “At least the meat won’t go to waste.”

  “Martha says the sheriff came out this morning.”

  “Jah.”

  “What’d he have to say?”

  “Said he’d double his patrol time around our place.”

  “He’s said that before,” Cleon put in, “but the attacks haven’t stopped, have they?”

  “Maybe the sheriff will catch the guilty party this time.” Rosemary hoped her voice sounded more optimistic than she felt. After speaking to the sheriff herself a couple of times, she didn’t feel he cared that much about the things that had happened at her brother’s place. She wondered if he might be prejudiced against Roman because he was Amish. She’d even wondered if—

  “What brings you over today?” Roman asked, breaking into Rosemary’s disconcerting thoughts.

  She reached into her purse and pulled out a check. “I came to give you this. It’s to help rebuild your woodworking business.”

  Roman took the check, and as he studied it, an awkward silence filled the space between them. Finally, he spoke. “I can’t take this.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s for five thousand dollars. That’s way too much.”

  “No, it’s not. I love you and your family, Roman. I want to help out.” Rosemary touched his arm. “Christmas is just a few weeks away, you know.”

  “So?”

  “I’m sure you can use some money to buy your family a few presents, not to mention all the supplies you’ll need to purchase to replace what was lost when your shop was destroyed.”

  A muscle on the side of his face quivered. “I’m touched by your generosity, sister,” he said in a near whisper. “Especially after the way I acted when you first came back home.”

  She smiled as tears clouded her vision. “That’s in the past. It’s over and forgiven. It’s the now that counts.”

  “Your sister’s right,” Cleon said. “It does no good to dwell on the past.”

  Roman nodded as he offered Rosemary a smile. “Danki, sister.” He held up the check. “Danki for this and for moving back to Holmes County.”

  As Grace entered the schoolhouse, where Anna and the other schoolchildren would be putting on their Christmas program, weariness settled over her like a heavy fog. The past few weeks had been stressful for everyone. Not only had Dad’s shop been blown up and his cows killed, but also two days ago, Dad and Mom had come down with a bad case of stomach flu, which meant they wouldn’t be able to attend Anna’s program tonight. Grace hoped no one else in the family came down with the flu.

  At least there have been no attacks in the last two weeks, she thought as she took a seat behind Anna’s desk. Anna had scurried behind the curtain at the front of the room, and Cleon stood near the back, holding Daniel.

  She glanced around the room and spotted Abe standing at the back near Cleon. Cleon’s brother Ivan was there, too, along with his girlfriend, Amanda. Grace figured it was just a matter of time before Ivan and Amanda became engaged. Soon Cleon’s folks would only have Carolyn living at home.

  Children grow up too quickly, she thought as she spotted Abe’s daughter Esta slip behind the curtain, along with her brothers Josh, who’d recently turned eleven, and Gideon, the oldest. Ruth sat at a desk with Abe’s youngest boy, five-year-old Owen, beside her, while she held little Molly in her lap.

  Grace smiled when Ruth nuzzled the top of Molly’s blond head. My sister will make a good mudder to Abe’s kinner. I’m glad she’s found love again.

  “How are your folks feeling?” Aunt Rosemary asked as she took a seat across the aisle from Grace. “I hear they’ve both got the flu.”

  Grace nodded. “They’re still pretty sick. Martha stayed home to see to their needs so Ruth could be here to watch the program.”

  Aunt Rosemary’s eyebrows puckered. “Does that mean they’re going to miss Christmas?”

  “It looks that way. You’re still invited to our house on Christmas Eve, and we’re planning to come to your place on Christmas Day. If no one else gets sick, that is,” Grace quickly added.

  “We’ll have to pray they don’t.”

  “Jah.”

  Grace turned toward the front of the room as the children’s teacher stepped in front of the curtain. “Welcome to our Christmas program,” she said. “We’ll begin with some recitations and poems by our first and second graders.”

  The first graders gave their recitations first, and then it was Anna’s turn. She glanced at Grace and smiled. “A long time ago, a sweet baby was born. God’s Son, Jesus, came to earth that special morn.”

  Grace smiled and gave Anna a nod to let her know she’d done a good job reciting the poem.

  As the program continued, Grace thought about what Christmas meant to her. It was a joyful, peaceful time of the year, when family and friends gathered to celebrate the birth of Jesus and thank God for His many blessings. She thought about the sacrifice God had made to send His Son to earth to die for the sins of the world and how Jesus had suffered so those who believed in Him might have eternal life.

  Nothing we’ve had to go through can compare with the suffering Jesus endured, Grace thought. Even what Mary and Joseph went through as they searched for a place where Mary could give birth had to have been stressful.

  She watched Esta, dressed as Mary, enter carrying a baby doll in her arms. Grace thought about how God had told Joseph to take Mary and Jesus and flee to Egypt because Jesus’ life was in danger. Trials and suffering would always be part of life, she realized, but it was how pe
ople chose to get through those trials that made the difference. They could either cry about their troubles and live in fear, or they could trust God and rely on Him to see them through. Tragedies either drove people away from God or drew them closer to Him. Grace hoped everyone in her family would draw closer to God during this Christmas season and keep their focus on Him, not the unpleasant circumstances that had been brought into their lives.

  Martha pulled the heavy quilt on her bed aside and sank onto the crisp, white sheets. She’d spent all day waiting on Mom and Dad and was exhausted. She rolled onto her back, watching the evening shadows dance across the ceiling and trying to relax. As tired as she felt, sleep refused to come.

  Ping! Ping! Ping!

  Martha bolted upright in bed and turned on the battery-operated lamp by her bed. It sounded like someone was throwing something against her window. She jumped up and raced over to the window, pulling the curtain aside. A man wearing Amish clothes, bathed in the light of the full, bright moon, appeared to be staring up at her room.

  She opened the window and stuck her head out, hoping to see who it was.

  “Psst. Martha! Can you come down?”

  The man looking up at her was Luke. Martha willed her heart to stop throbbing.

  “I’ll be right there!” She closed the window and slipped out of her nightgown and into a dress and sneakers. She quickly did up her hair, set her kapp in place, and tiptoed out of the room. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she stopped and listened, hoping Mom and Dad weren’t awake. Except for the soft snores coming from their room, all was quiet. She grabbed her jacket from the wall peg and slipped out the back door.

  The smile Martha gave Luke when she stepped up to him took his breath away. “Luke, what are you doing here?” she asked.

  “Came to see you.”

  She glanced around. “I don’t see your horse and buggy. I hope you didn’t walk all the way over here in the cold.”