Psalm 5: 12.
For you bless the righteous, O Lord; you cover him with favor as with a shield.
Kate was uncomfortable in the driver’s seat of the buggy as she made her way to the large farm. Despite the horse in front of her doing most of the work once again, Kate was quite anxious about driving. Nevertheless, it wasn’t too bad. She was finding it easier to make small adjustments to the right or left with just a slight pull on one side of the rein. If she flicked the reins, the horse sped up; if she pulled on the reins a little, he slowed down.
Kate hoped that Henry Moore would swallow her cover story, which was that she had lost her dog. Her real purpose was to identify him, to see whether or not he was the one who had attacked her in Mr. Byler’s barn. Katie was a little concerned that Henry Moore would recognize her, but she figured he probably wouldn’t be able to tell one Amish lady her age from another. After all, Amish women dressed alike, and the bonnet was a further bonus in concealing her identity.
The road she traversed on her way to the Byler farm was paved all black, and looked as though it had been redone within the last few months. The black top was as dark as a starless night. The road ran right along the farm she was aiming to get at, but a guard rail kept her from getting impatient and just cutting across the fields to the large white farmhouse near the center of the farm’s allotted land.
The fields were green and full, each long rectangular patch growing something else. There was what looked to Kate like cabbage; there was corn; there were peas and potatoes. The horse trotted slowly along, flicking his head back and forth when the flies came to give him bother. They would fly away for a few minutes, and then they were back, and the horse flicked his head to the side again.
Finally, the guardrail ended for a short distance, and there was a break in the fields, and Kate pulled the horse to the right. Slicing up through the fields was a dirt path, well worn, and the buggy wheels fell into thicker ruts put there by cars driving up and down the path again and again over the years.
Kate bumped along, working to get used to how unforgiving an uneven section of ground was in a buggy as compared to car. The white house grew larger as they neared it, and the dirt path rose slightly. When it broke a small crest and went even for a few feet before dipping back downwards, Kate could see a smattering of vehicles parked at the end of the drive, near the front door of the house. A red pick up and a black car were standing in the shade of an old oak tree.
Kate kept the buggy going forward slowly, and as she neared the cars, she stopped. She wasn’t sure if horses kicked out at cars or not, so she tied the horse a good ten feet from the closest car. She climbed out, had a few words with her horse, and then went to the house.
The front porch was as white as everything else, all wood, the paint flaking away in some spots, while the house looked as freshly painted as that road had looked paved. The second step creaked, and Kate paused, suddenly feeling nervous, without being able to exactly tell why.
Of course, it had something to do with what she was about to do, and certainly had to do with the fact that she was reasonably sure the man who owned the house had murdered another man. She was also reasonably sure that he was the one who had attacked her in the barn.
Kate balled a fist and went to knock, but the door in front of her opened, leaving just the screen door between her and the living room of the home. Henry Moore himself was standing there, but he was turned away from Kate, and he didn’t even notice her as someone called for him and he walked away from the door, leaving it open. Through the screen door, Kate could hear voices one room over. She strained to hear what they were saying, and could just make the words out.
“You did it; I know you did. Didn’t you?” a voice said. Kate estimated it to be a man’s voice, or maybe a teen’s. Male though, Kate was sure of that. After the young voice stopped, an older one started, deeper and steady. Kate was certain this voice belonged to Henry Moore.
“I recommend you think hard about what you’re going to say to me.”
“I’m only speaking the truth,” the younger voice argued.
“The truth?” Henry Moore asked. “What would you know of it?” His voice was cold and held the hard edge of a sneer.
“I know that you came to me, and you asked me if I would sell the farm to you, whenever I happened to inherit it. Sure, I agreed, but I had no idea that you were going to kill my father! You killed him! You killed my father, and we both know it.”
“To say such a thing, to me, in my own home,” Henry Moore said. “I’m shocked, appalled, and saddened.”
Even from where she stood, Kate could hear no tone of sadness in the man’s voice. Instead, he sounded smug, as if he had gotten away with something.
“Your father and I knew each other for a long time,” the man continued. “Indeed, I’ve had quite an upstanding reputation amongst your former people, in this community. And now this? If your father could see you, what do you suppose he would think? If he could speak to you, what do you think he would say?”
“He can speak to me, and he will again,” the young voice claimed. “I’ll see him again someday, when I too am called home, and he’ll tell me everything.”
There was silence for a moment, and Kate made to move away, thinking they could be moving her way, but then the older voice spoke again. “Are you still going to sell the farm to me? I thought, with the money I offered you, that you wouldn’t mind what I did.”
“Well, I didn’t think you’d kill my father,” the younger voice snapped.
“Oh come on, Moses; stop pretending. There was no love lost between you and your father. I did you a favor by killing him, and you know it. But instead of thanking me, you come here and you’re rude to my face. After that huge sum I offered for the farm, too.”
Kate heard a gasp, followed by footsteps, so she hurried back outside as fast as she could. Unfortunately, she was unused to the long skirt, and so tripped and landed hard.
The man hurried out the door, hesitated when he drew level with Kate, and then hurried to the red pickup. Kate memorized the plates as the young man took off with a squeal of tires, and then struggled to her feet. She stood up and dusted herself off, just as Henry Moore appeared at the front door. He saw her there, and his eyes went wide.
“Who are you?” he asked, walking down the porch steps. “Why are you here?”
A wave of fear suddenly washed over Kate. “Oh,” she stammered, facing him. “I’ve lost my little dog. I’m so worried about him. I’m going to all the farms in the area asking if anyone’s seen him.”
“A lost dog?” Henry Moore asked after a long pause.
Kate nodded, and forced herself to smile.
The man looked at her with a furrowed brow, and then his face relaxed, and he smiled. “Sorry, I haven’t seen any dogs around here. A little dog, you say?”
Kate nodded again.
“Well, sorry, I guess I can’t help you there,” Henry Moore said. “I hope you find him.”
“Thanks,” Kate said, and she breathed a long sigh of relief as she turned and almost ran to her buggy. She climbed into the seat, got the buggy turned around without too much trouble, and headed back down the bumpy dirt path.
Sweat was forming on her brow as she drove, and she didn’t dare look back to see if Henry Moore was still there, standing on the bottom step, watching her. She felt as if he was, in that strange way a person could feel someone’s eyes burning into their back when they were being watched. But still, she didn’t turn around, and she kept the horse going at a steady clip, until she found the road again, and took a left, carefully crossing the right lane and getting onto the shoulder. Finally she turned to look at the house, but it was so far away she couldn’t tell if the man was still there or not.
Kate was shaking. The man gave no sign that he recognized her, but Kate had met enough clever criminals to know that they were good at keeping their reactions hidden. If he came after her in a car, what could she do? She couldn’t outrun him in a buggy, even if she did know how to drive properly and even if the horse had been younger and faster.
Kate did the only thing that came to her mind; she prayed for help.