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  She tapped the folder that lay on the polished oak table.

  Oak.

  He rubbed his fingers across it. There were so many things he’d miss if matters continued down the path it seemed they would, the path that seemed to be Gotte’s wille. Already his heart ached from all that would be torn from his life.

  He touched the overly polished finish of the table and longed for the clean scents of his woodworking shop. It had been only two days, but he missed working with his wood, missed his family more — his mamm and dat and, of course, Tobias — missed the fields and the animals.

  Missed his freedom.

  But what was the alternative? He’d chased it round in his mind like a hungry barn cat chasing a mouse through bales of hay. He saw no way out.

  A girl was dead, and according to Englisch laws, it must be investigated.

  According to Black, murder had been committed, and the guilty party must pay.

  He looked up to meet Adalyn’s waiting gaze. “Did you speak to Deborah?”

  “She’ll be here soon, but I don’t see how Deborah can help your case.”

  He shrugged and stared down at his hands again, which he’d allowed to fall in his lap.

  Instead of backing off, Adalyn walked around the table, pulled out the chair next to him, and sat. “Stop frowning at your hands, Reuben. Look out the window. Look at that large tree, how it rises against the sky. Look at the last of the fall leaves.”

  Resisting her suggestion was futile. Reuben raised his eyes and took in the autumn morning.

  Her voice was urgent, low, and so close he could smell the peppermint candy she’d eaten before entering the room. “Now I can’t guarantee that we can win this. However, I can promise that you won’t see fall turn to winter — not one day of it — if you don’t start talking to me and give me something, some reason to convince the judge that you aren’t going to hurt anyone. Englisch trials are a long, slow process. I’d rather you do the waiting on the outside.”

  Reuben looked at her then, really looked at her. Let his gaze drill into the depths of her blue eyes, eyes that resembled the steel he’d seen on the rims of the Englischers’ tires. This was a woman who would fight for him. The problem was that Reuben had spent his entire life avoiding fights, and yes — avoiding the Englischers as much as possible.

  Now he was to trust her?

  How could he begin to tell Adalyn Landt everything that had happened since Katie had shown up at his farm six days ago? How could he explain what he didn’t understand himself?

  He was saved from the attempt by a light tap on the door.

  He saw Deborah’s prayer kapp first, then she entered the room, turned toward them, and allowed a small smile to crease her worried face. Reuben let out an audible sigh.

  “I’m glad you’re here, Deborah. Maybe you can talk some sense into him.”

  “There are more problems?”

  “He won’t speak. He won’t give me anything to use in his defense. We go in front of Judge Stearns in fifteen minutes, and I don’t know what I’m going to tell her other than this man who looks like he could take on an ox single-handedly most assuredly didn’t kill anyone, because he couldn’t kill anyone, because he’s Amish, and we all know Amish folk are the meek of the earth.” Adalyn picked up her bag, which appeared to be made of a nicer leather than Reuben’s finest harness and matched the piping on her dark blue suit, and pulled the strap over her shoulder.

  She walked across the room as if she were ready to take on the Shipshewana officers outside. Reuben had no doubt that she could handle them on her own.

  “I’m going to the ladies’ room. There’s a guard in the hall, so don’t even try escaping with him.” She stopped and gave Deborah a hug. “I’ll buy you pie for a month if you persuade him to talk.”

  Then she was gone.

  Reuben waited until the door had closed, waited until Deborah had walked across the room and taken the seat Adalyn had vacated. He waited until the silence had settled around them with the warmth of a quilt against a blizzard.

  Deborah didn’t speak first, but then he didn’t expect her to. The quietness soothed him. If there was anything about the jail that pricked his soul, it was the constant noise. He supposed it was a small price to pay.

  Raising his still-cuffed hands, he clumsily ran one over his face, then cleared his throat and began. “Guess you’re wondering why I sent for you.”

  “Your mamm and dat are waiting outside. Tobias and Esther as well.”

  Reuben shook his head. “They’ll be having a hard enough time with this. Don’t want to cause them more pain than what has already been laid at their door.” Tears stung his eyes, but he blinked them away.

  “You’ve always been a gut freind to my family,” he continued.

  “And I always will be.”

  “I knew I could trust you to see that what I ask is done. Tobias is to proceed with the wedding next week. He might be tempted to postpone, but I want him to carry on as if I were there. I imagine it would be easier if they live at our place now, since it might be some time before I’m back home to work the fields and see to the animals. Suspect they’d rather live in the house than the barn, but that’s up to the family to decide.”

  “Reuben, why are you speaking as if you won’t be home for a while?”

  He tried to answer her, tried to push out the words that had been filling his heart with dread. Inside it felt as if one of the rare earthquakes of central Indiana had hit. He actually reached out for the table in front of him, as if the ground had shifted and settled again.

  But it hadn’t.

  It was his life that had changed, and it would never be the same.

  “You mustn’t act as if you’re going to be here long. Adalyn is a fine lawyer—”

  He stood suddenly, her words dying when his chair crashed to the floor. No tears came to his eyes though. He wouldn’t cry for this thing he’d pay for. Best to bear a thing and be done with it. Best to keep the emotions at arms’ length in this case.

  “And I appreciate you sending her, but I’m thinking there isn’t much she can do. Black laid out the evidence they have, and he explained the sentence for murder.”

  Pulling in a deep breath, he forced himself to look at her. “Will you tell them what I said?”

  “Ya. Of course I will.”

  He turned his back to her then, stared out at the fall day, and refused to speak any more. Which was how Adalyn found them when she returned with the guard to escort him in to see the judge.

  Chapter 12

  CALLIE COULDN’T HAVE BEEN HAPPIER despite the circumstances.

  A year and a half ago she’d been flying around the country, hurrying to sales meetings, and pushing to be the top pharmaceutical rep for the Houston firm that employed her. She had no real friends, an apartment she rarely visited, and a giant hole in her heart left from Rick’s passing.

  Looking around her circle of friends, she was still amazed at how much could change in so little time. Deborah, Melinda, and Esther were not the type of women she’d have associated with in her other life, but now it seemed as if she’d known them forever. She couldn’t imagine going through a day without them.

  Her life was very nearly perfect, except for the absence of Rick and the fact that someone dear to her was once again involved in a murder investigation.

  And the mess of material in her lap.

  “Are you sure this wouldn’t be easier with a machine?” Callie looked down at her crooked row of stitches and considered ripping them out.

  “Easier isn’t always better,” Melinda noted, her eyes crinkling into a smile as she quickly and neatly sewed a strip of blue fabric around a green quilt block.

  “Say. I like what you’re doing there. Maybe I should try that.”

  “She’s sashing, and you’re not quite ready for that step yet. Best to continue with piecing your square together.” Deborah exchanged a smile with Esther.

  “I don’t know. Maybe I shou
ld start over. This looks terrible. My stitches aren’t the same size, and they look more like a wave than a row. I think I’ll pull them out — “

  “Don’t do it, Miss Callie.” Martha, Deborah’s ten-year-old daughter, set her own sewing aside and moved to stand beside her. “Imagine a straight line and keep sewing. If you continue to pull out those stitches every ten minutes, your quilt square is going to look like Swiss cheese.”

  The group of women burst into laughter. Callie wanted to stick her lip out and pout, but she was so relieved to see Esther laugh, even for a moment, that she didn’t mind being the brunt of the joke. “This is terrible, and you know it. Mine will never look as good as your mamm’s.”

  “Each person’s work looks different.” Martha pulled her stool closer. “Your stitches look as good as mine when I started.”

  “And you were—”

  Martha hesitated, but Deborah answered.

  “She finished her first quilt when she was eight. It was a small one that we used for Joshua’s bed.”

  “Eight? I was playing with Barbie dolls when I was eight.”

  “Ya, Amish children have a different life — it’s true.” Melinda reached under her glasses to rub her eyes. “But don’t think it’s not playing for our children as well.”

  Callie followed Esther’s glance, over to Leah, who was using a large plastic needle to draw yarn back and forth through a wooden board that had holes drilled out of it. The board had been sanded, smoothed, and shellacked so the yarn wouldn’t catch on the edges. Leah was making a design all to her liking, that much seemed obvious to Callie. The girl was humming softly as she sewed.

  Esther turned back to the group, a wistful note in her voice. “I remember when we were kinner, nearly Martha’s age. We used to pretend that we were grown-ups, making quilts for the kittens in the barn.”

  “I remember taking one to the barn and having to do extra laundry chores for a week.” Deborah stood and rubbed at the small of her back. “I could not understand why quilts weren’t for kittens.”

  “So you’re telling me to keep sewing.”

  “Exactly,” Martha said. “You’ll improve, as I did. Try holding your needle this way.”

  “I want perfect stitches, and a perfect square like everyone else,” Callie muttered.

  “We don’t all receive what we want, and best be glad for that.” Martha sounded so much like Deborah that they all burst out laughing again, all except Esther, who set her quilting aside.

  They’d chosen Friday and Monday afternoons for their quilting circle. On Fridays, the weekend shoppers hadn’t arrived yet — and it wasn’t a market day. On Mondays, the shop was closed, and by the afternoon, Callie was done restocking.

  “How is your feud with Mrs. Knepp going, Callie?” Melinda never slowed in her stitching as she glanced up then back down again.

  “I tried sending her a letter, but it was returned unopened.”

  “She’s a bit mulish,” Deborah admitted.

  “A bit? I thought Texans were stubborn. This woman is more obstinate than a west Texas bull. The letter was an invitation to tea. I thought we could host a quilting sale together, maybe promote each other’s business. So far nothing I’ve tried with her works.”

  “Perhaps you should let her be,” Melinda suggested.

  “Hard to do since hers is the only other quilt shop in town. It just seems that we’d do better business if we coordinated things occasionally.”

  “It didn’t help when Trent included a picture of you in Amish clothing on the front page,” Deborah teased. “Mrs. Knepp was ranting about it when I stopped in to say hello. She seemed personally offended.”

  “As if my being there was related to the story at all.” Callie frowned as she focused on ripping out her stitches. “I asked Trent why he included the picture of me and Max hurrying toward the scene and he said we sell papers. People want to know what trouble we’ve managed to find.”

  “I doubt Shane was happy with the photo of the girl in the pond — even if there wasn’t much of her shown.” Melinda glanced around the group. “Trent must be pleased though. I heard they had to print extra copies of the paper, they sold so many.”

  “That man would photograph his own mother if it would sell papers.” Callie set aside her sewing.

  When Esther stood and began pacing slowly back and forth, her hands crumpling her apron, Callie decided it was time for tea and cookies.

  Hurrying to the kitchen, she grabbed the tray of mugs and tea supplies, then turned and nearly bumped into Deborah.

  “I’ll help you carry those.”

  “Thanks. Do you think she’ll be all right?”

  “Esther will be fine. It’s natural for her to worry. We’re all worried, but God will take care of Reuben. Have faith, Callie.”

  Instead of asking the dozens of questions she had, Callie nodded and marched toward the sitting area at the back of the shop. Max looked up hopefully, so she gave Leah a dog treat and asked her to take it to him.

  “Esther, tea?”

  “Ya. I suppose so.” She sat, then popped back up again.

  Melinda carefully stored her own sewing needle, walked over to her, and planted herself firmly in the path of her pacing. When Esther moved to sidestep to the right, Melinda stepped with her, reaching out to rub both of her arms gently.

  “It’s going to be all right.”

  “I know it will.”

  “Come and talk about it.”

  “Ya, maybe that will help.”

  It took an entire cup of chamomile before Esther found the words, but then they began pouring like water from a stream that had been suddenly undammed. “Tobias agrees with what Reuben said, Deborah. He wishes to go on with the wedding. Says our life — “ she glanced over to Leah, down at her lap, then back up again. “He says that we can show our faith in Reuben best by continuing on as usual.”

  A tear slipped down her cheek, and she brushed it away. “He really is a very gut man — they both are.”

  “Of course they are.” Deborah reached over and squeezed her hand. “Yesterday was only the informal arraignment, Esther. We mustn’t become discouraged.”

  “Explain to me again why the judge wouldn’t grant bail?” Melinda reached for an oatmeal cookie, broke it in half, and handed a small piece to her one-year-old, Hannah.

  “Adalyn said it was because he hadn’t cooperated with the court. What do you think she meant by that, Callie?”

  Looking around her, Callie took a few sips, wondering how to explain the Englisch legal system to her Amish friends. Even after what they’d been through a few months earlier with Stakehorn, this seemed new to them, perhaps because they’d never had a friend on the other side of the jail cell. The situation when Esther’s first husband had died had been somewhat similar, but the boys responsible had never been charged.

  “Didn’t you say he refused to enter any kind of plea?”

  “Ya. He still won’t talk.” Deborah shook her head.

  “I looked that up on Google last night, since both Andrew and Shane refuse to discuss the case with me. The defendant has a right to silence. He can stand mute.”

  “Reuben appears mute,” Melinda muttered.

  “Apparently it’s frowned upon.”

  “Adalyn was very upset,” Esther admitted. “She even left her leather bag in the car, and I’ve never known her to forget it.”

  “If he had not insisted on remaining silent, the court would have entered a plea of not guilty. It looks better if the man on trial says he’s not guilty,” Callie continued. Everyone thought on that for a moment. “You said he’s still refusing to give a statement?” Callie asked.

  “Ya, I think that’s what Adalyn was so bothered about.”

  “The court can’t require him to testify against himself, but if he were cooperating — which the judge would prefer — he would seem more forthcoming.”

  Every face in the room remained turned toward her, waiting for more of an explanation. C
allie looked toward the front of the shop, toward the windows, where she could see the back of the “Information Wanted” poster that Gavin had taped there yesterday. It contained an artist’s rendering of a young Amish girl with beautiful brown eyes and golden hair, wearing a green-colored dress.

  There was one in every shop window in town.

  “For instance, Andrew said that Reuben knew the girl, but has he explained to anyone who she is?”

  Now the women looked down at the quilting materials in the middle of their circle.

  “Perhaps Officer Gavin was mistaken,” Melinda finally offered.

  “Doubtful. Andrew’s trained in such things.” Callie set her cup down on the table.

  “If he saw them together, which is what Tobias heard Officer Gavin say, then maybe they do know each other, but not well.” Esther nibbled around a cookie as she spoke. “But it doesn’t seem possible that the girl was staying in the house.”

  Deborah never glanced up. “Tobias told Jonas that before they handcuffed Reuben, they did some sort of testing in the house. Do you know what that was?”

  “Supposedly they found blood from the girl’s head wound. Tobias was allowed back in the house the next day, but he didn’t see anything.”

  Callie had forgotten there were so many things the Amish simply were not exposed to — like crime television. “Blood can be washed away to the point where you can’t see it, but there are still trace particles there. When the police use luminol sprays, the spray exposes even small amounts of blood.”

  “How do you know these things?” Deborah asked. “Agatha Christie?”

  “Television.”

  “Oh. Esther, how did Tobias not see her? What I mean is, does he think the girl was hiding, so he wouldn’t see her?” Deborah blushed slightly as she asked the question.

  “No. We talked it through some last night, and he admitted he hadn’t even been back to his grossdaddi’s property in a week, and he hasn’t been inside the house in a year or more. Otherwise Shane might have tried to arrest him as well. Tobias could be sharing that Englisch cell with Reuben.” Esther paled as she spoke. Deborah picked up Esther’s cup of tea and pushed it into her hands, but she ignored it. “Tobias was pulling double shifts at the feed store, so he had been staying with his parents for the past week. They live closer to town. Some nights he even slept on a pallet in the workroom.”