Amish Country Undercover Page 7

  “Like a pitchfork?”

  Grace glanced at Jack. He was daring her to deny it, his eyebrows raised. “I didn’t intend to use the farm tool as a weapon,” she said in her defense.

  “Well, even though it was pointed at me, I’m glad you had it. It showed me you value your life. Which is why I need you to see the necessity of me having a weapon. I’m a lawman now, and this is part of my life. It protects me and it protects you. After last night’s shootout, it’s a must-have. I would hate to be caught empty-handed and have you pay for it with your life. Don’t ask me to not do my job to my fullest capacity. It would be too dangerous for us both.”

  She frowned but nodded. “I’m supposed to value God’s peaceful ways, but you’re right. I do also value my life. It’s an argument I have with Daed all the time.” As they walked the horse out behind the long building, she took in the beauty of the Kentucky landscape around them, but a bit of growing guilt tainted the serene scenery. She decided to come clean with him. “To let you in on a little secret, I actually wished I had brought my daed’s hunting rifle out to the barn.”

  “Now that’s a sight I would have liked to have seen. Although the pitchfork was inspiring.” He smirked, but as they turned at the corner of the stable, his smile fell from his lips. He pointed his free hand toward something ahead of them. “Do you know why that white truck is parked here?”

  Grace shrugged. “It’s always parked there. It belongs to one of the stable hands.”

  “It’s the same truck that gunned its engine as it passed us earlier. I think we found the person who alerted people to our visit.”

  Grace couldn’t be sure one way or the other. When the truck had whizzed past, her eyes had been closed, while she prayed for the sound not to spook the horses. “It may have been a white truck, but this is horse country. Nearly every English person has a truck, many of them white.”

  “True,” Jack conceded. “Only time will tell when the owner starts the engine. You can be certain sure I’ll be listening for it.” He sniffed deeply as they walked closer to it. “I don’t smell the offensive odor the muffler gave off, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Even if it is the same truck, it still doesn’t mean anything. I think you’re overreacting. Let’s take this horse inside, and I’ll introduce you to the stable hands. They’re all very nice and respectful.”

  “I’m sure they are, but don’t forget someone passed a thoroughbred to you in place of the standardbred you bid on. At least one of them is corrupt.”

  As much as Grace didn’t want to believe it, she had to agree with him. Once could have been a mistake, but more than that was deliberate. Yet who could it be? “Steven is a fair man,” she said, thinking of each of the hands that she and her father had dealt with over the years. “He’s the oldest of them all. His nephew Liam is the youngest, around twenty. Kind of quiet, but he’s good with the horses. I can’t see either of them stealing animals, never mind using me to do it.”

  “How many people work in the stables?”

  Grace mentally counted the people she’d seen in the past. “I can’t be sure, but when I come to pick up the horses, it’s usually Steven or Liam who brings me the ones I bid on.”

  “Has there ever been anyone else, maybe someone you’d never seen before?”

  “I don’t recall...though maybe there was one time.” She bit her lower lip and frowned. “I’ll admit that in the past few months I’ve been in a hurry to return home. I might have turned over the claim number and not looked closely at the person I handed it to. Or, apparently, the horse I bought.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up over it. Whoever is behind this probably saw your situation and used it to their advantage. Had anyone mentioned the thefts to you when you came the last few times?”

  “Not at all. It was business as usual.”

  Jack searched the area as he seemed to be considering her words. “So, they kept the thefts under wraps. Someone alerted the FBI, but didn’t share the knowledge with the staff or public. That tells me the whistleblower thinks it’s an in-house job.”

  A car’s motor broke the silence and interrupted their thoughts. Grace glanced up and saw a black sports car racing down the hill from the big mansion above. It curved around a bend in the driveway and drove past them at a fast clip. Suddenly, the driver hit the brakes and screeched to a halt. Gravel spit out from the tires as the car abruptly reversed, coming back to them.

  The tinted window of the passenger side lowered until the driver became visible. He removed a pair of dark sunglasses and eyed them quizzically. Anger contorted his face and piercing dark eyes. “What are you two doing back here, and with my horse?”

  Grace trembled at the blatant hostility in the man’s voice. Never had she experienced such distaste coming at her. But worse, she felt her own anger rolling deep within her. Before she could control her wrath, she shouted back at the man, “How dare you treat your horse this way? You don’t deserve her.”

  Instantly, Grace wanted to swallow the words back, especially when she felt Jack tense beside her and get ready to use his weapon. The idea of him shooting because she’d lost control of her tongue turned her anger into nausea.

  The man stepped from his car and slammed the door. He stomped around the hood and came at them, pointing his finger. His frame exuded strength and even though he was in his late fifties, the man could deliver on his threat. His blond hair fell in his face and covered one eye. His rageful look told her she’d gone too far.

  A soft answer turns away wrath.

  The Scripture always rested at the forefront of Grace’s mind. Not that it did any good to her a moment ago. But it gave her the power to speak quickly and kindly now, hoping she could steer the situation to a peaceful outcome.

  “I want an answer. What are you doing with my horse?” he yelled.

  Grace spoke in a quiet voice. “She was left hitched to the cart. She had just been raced. We found her alone and were walking her to cool her off.”

  The man pushed his mussed hair from his face. His lips snarled, but his next scathing look wasn’t directed at her. This time it was aimed at the barn, along with his curled fists. “I can’t trust anyone in there to do their job. I should fire them all.” He reached for the horse’s bridle. “I’ll take her from here. Sorry, but I’ve lost too many horses already. And Game Changer is priceless.”

  Grace glanced up at Jack. His pensive expression told her he was considering his opinion of the man. As she was about to speak, he shook his head once to stop her.

  “How have you lost your horses?” Jack asked.

  “Thieves. I’ve lost three males in four months.” His anger reddened his face, and he yanked on the horse’s bridle to pull her forward.

  “Please, go easy,” Grace said without a thought. “I mean, please, don’t take it out on her.”

  The man stopped and studied Grace with speculative eyes. He slowly turned to Jack and gave him his full attention. With his anger tempered, he gave Jack a single nod. “I’m sorry. Things have been upsetting around here. I’ve had to call the police to investigate, but no one has found any leads. I don’t want to lose any more horses, but I feel like I’m doing this all alone. My father passed away a year ago. He was the brains behind the ranch. Really understood horses. I wish I’d paid more attention. Now all I can do is trust my workers to know what to do.” He waved his hand as he pulled the horse with him, calling over his shoulder, “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. Maybe it’s because you’re Amish. I really hope I can trust you, or all is definitely lost.”

  “What’s your name?” Jack asked him.

  With his hand on the door to the stables, he said, “Edmund Barone.”

  “You’re the owner of Autumn Woods?”

  Edmund glanced at Grace. His gaze locked on hers in a way that made her feel as though he expected her to answer. She didn
’t know him, and honestly never remembered seeing him around the track or stable. “I remember your father,” she responded with a shrug.

  “But not me, I know. I’m a prodigal son who returned home too late,” Edmund looked to Jack and answered his question. “I’m in charge around here now, yes.”

  “I’m Jack Kaufman. And this is Grace Miller. Her father is the Amish horse trader who’s been coming here for years.” Jack dropped his hands to his sides in a nonchalant way. Grace was glad to see the gun was back in its hiding place but knew he could have it at the ready in an instant if need be.

  Edmund Barone took a moment to register what Jack had just told him. He quickly relaxed with a smile. “I’ve heard about your father. Nice man, from what I was told. Haven’t seen him since I left town years ago, but I see your resemblance to your parents.” He cleared his throat and said, “Well, at least your dad.” Edmund then looked back at Jack and asked, “Are you taking over for him?”

  Grace tried to hide a frown. Even the English didn’t believe this was a job for a woman. She lifted her chin and said boldly, “Actually, I am.”

  Surprise washed over Edmund’s face. Then he slowly smiled and rubbed his chin. “Perfect,” he said. “I look forward to seeing you around here more. I think you’ll fit right in.”

  Grace nodded but wasn’t sure what he meant by his comment. It didn’t feel like a compliment. It felt almost sinister. Here she was, bringing back his horse, but now wondered if she should have handed over the animal. She noticed Jack’s hesitancy, as well, and knew he was concerned.

  “What now?” she asked when Edmund had disappeared inside the stables.

  Jack glanced up at the big house on the hill. “I’d like to learn a little more about him. It wouldn’t be the first time an owner perpetrated a crime for the insurance money. And those horses are worth a pretty penny.”

  “I never thought of that. The Amish don’t take out insurance policies. I always thought it was to keep us relying on God and our community, but perhaps our ways are also to preserve honesty. Money can cause evil intentions.”

  “They don’t call it the root of all evil for nothing,” Jack said. “Come on, I want to get the stolen thoroughbred back to your house before anyone realizes he’s here. I’m not leaving him till I can figure out if the owner is involved.”

  “He said he’s contacted the police. We can ask Sheriff Maddox to confirm that.”

  Jack scoffed at the idea as Grace fell into step with him. They circled back around the stable to where her buggy and horses were still hitched to the post.

  But they weren’t alone.

  Liam Byler stood near the back of the buggy, feeding the stolen horse an apple with one hand and petting him with the other.

  “Hallo, Liam,” Grace said as they neared.

  The young man abruptly turned and moved back. He rubbed his hands down his blue work pants a few times. “Hello. I’m sorry,” he said in a hushed voice. “I didn’t mean to—I mean, I was only giving him a treat. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Of course,” Grace assured him. He rarely spoke to her, and this was the most he probably had ever said to her at one time. “I’m sure he’s happy about that. You wouldn’t happen to have two more for my other horses, would you?”

  Liam jammed his hands into his side pockets and pulled out two more apples, as well as a piece of paper. The small slip fluttered in the breeze before it drifted to the ground. With his hands full, Grace bent to retrieve the paper. It was a claim ticket just like the ones she turned in when picking up a horse.

  Liam handed Jack the apples and quickly snatched the ticket from Grace. “I can’t lose that. My uncle would kill me.” He stepped back. “I have to go.” And with that he pivoted, hurried to the gate into the track and slipped inside.

  Jack fed the two horses their apples as he watched Liam go. “Is he always so nervous?”

  “He doesn’t talk much, so I’m not sure. I just go into the stable and hand him or his onkel Steven my ticket, and they bring me the horse.”

  Jack scanned the track area. “It doesn’t look like much is going on today. We’ll have to return another day. Let’s get this horse back. Then we’ll make our plans for our next move.”

  “Won’t keeping the horse invite more danger to my home?”

  “We won’t be. My supervisor will know where he can go for safekeeping until I learn more about the people who work here and their boss.” Jack stood by the buggy’s door, behind Grace.

  She slowly climbed into it. Glancing around the ranch, she questioned her safety here for the first time ever. “I don’t want to believe anyone here could mean me harm.”

  Jack climbed up and settled back into the driver’s seat. “Well, believe it. And don’t forget, they set you up to pay for a crime.” He flicked the reins, and the horses set out at a leisurely pace once again. “Unless you have something to share with me. Care to come clean?” He raised his eyebrows in question.

  “You mean if I am the real thief, after all?”

  “Or if you know why someone would want you to pay for the crime. And why they would shoot at you.”

  “I have no idea.” Grace shook her head. “It’s absurd.”

  “Think on it, because no matter how absurd you believe it is, they’ll be back to finish the crime. And if you’re not ready, you will fall right into their trap.”

  * * *

  It was an hour later when Jack drove the buggy back into Grace’s driveway and up to the barn doors. Locking the brake, he said, “I’ll put up the horses. Nic will be here shortly to take the thoroughbred into custody.”

  “I can help with the horses, but I need to check on Daed first. I’ll be right back.” Grace stepped down from the buggy and walked around the rear. As she passed the stolen horse, she stopped to pat his cheek and peer into his glassy eyes. “It won’t be long before you are safe.”

  He huffed in return. She patted him once more and went to the house and her father.

  She had left Benjamin at the table with a task of shucking sweet corn ears from the fall season. She’d left him with two bushels, about a hundred cobs, but knowing her father, she was sure he’d be meticulous about removing every piece of silk. She expected to find most of the corn still left for her to husk. She had so many fruits and vegetables to can for the winter, and as her father became more and more distant and distracted, she accepted the workload before her.

  Grace unlocked the kitchen door and opened it wide. Bright yellow ears of sweet corn were stacked on the table in a neat heap, each placed with precision into a pyramid shape. Grace smiled at her daed’s work ethic. He might be losing his memory, but his identity as a hard worker was part of him.

  “Daed?” she called out. “We’re home!”

  Grace walked into the living room and stood at the bottom of the stairs. She listened for sounds of her father up in his room, but no response came.

  She took the steps slowly at first, then sped up when he didn’t emerge from his opened door at the top. She walked to his room but found it empty.

  Grace searched the other two bedrooms, with no success. Pausing at the window in her room that overlooked the rear yard and garden, she hoped to find him working in it.

  There was no sign of him anywhere.

  “Daed!” Grace raced back out into the hall and down the stairs with thudding feet. Ignoring the pain in her feet, she called, “Daed! Where are you?”

  She ran through the living room to the kitchen, praying she would find him there now. Maybe she had walked right by him when she’d entered through the back door. Her hope was silly, but she held on to it with all she had in her. The alternative was too much to bear. The idea that her father was missing scared Grace more than horse thieves.

  “Daed!” she yelled, as she opened the rear door and stepped out onto the porch. She gripped the railing with white-kn
uckled hands as her heart rate picked up. She called out again, but knew it was no use. She ran down the steps, scanning the pastures, fields and woods, all the way over to the ridge.

  “Grace?” Jack stepped from the barn. He picked up his pace until he stood before her, his hands reaching for her upper arms. “What’s wrong?” he demanded.

  She felt him give her a shake, but his face blurred before her. “Daed!” she gasped, still hoping her father would appear from the cornfield or from behind the barn. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, but she couldn’t stop them even if she tried. Fear overtook her. “He’s gone,” she cried out. “Daed is gone!”

  EIGHT

  Alarm tightened Jack’s chest and hit his stomach like a sucker punch. He held a frantic Grace at arm’s length and fought the urge to pull her in close, to give her comfort and wipe away her tears. Her visible fear provoked him to want to fix whatever it was that caused her such distress. All he knew in this moment was that Grace needed him.

  Then her words sank in and the meaning of them explained her state.

  Benjamin Miller was missing.

  “Did you check the whole house?” he asked, as he let her go and went to see for himself. His heavy boots on the wood floors echoed back at him as he searched the house. But there was no sign of Benjamin anywhere, not in the house, or the barn, or the trees beyond. Everywhere Jack looked, he returned with no success.

  And no comfort for Grace.

  When Jack came back from the woods, he found her hitching the buggy back up.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “To Sheriff Maddox. I need help searching. It will be dark soon. I have to find him.” Grace ran around the barn at a frantic pace, readying the horses.

  “What makes you think he wandered off? How do you know he wasn’t taken?”

  “Taken?” Grace froze at the closest stall. “Who would take an old Amish man?”

  Jack shrugged. “Maybe someone trying to get to you? Maybe our horse thief returned for the thoroughbred and found him gone, so took your father instead.” Jack looked around the barn for any clues of a ransom note. Everything was in its place and as they had left it that morning. “I need to search the house again.”