Chapter 14
“I don’t know why we couldn’t have come in the buggy,” Mary Aaron grumbled. “It would have been a lot more comfortable.”
“You said you wanted to know everything they knew that night. You wanted to ride home from the Troyers’, just like Elsie and Dathan did. They were in a wagon, not a buggy,” her brother said.
“I’m just following my mother’s advice,” Rachel said to her cousins. “Mam said that I should do exactly what they did Friday night. That way we’d see and hear most of what they did.”
It was a little after nine, and John Hannah, Elsie’s twin, was driving the horse and wagon in the direction of the Troyers’ farm with Rachel and Mary Aaron sitting on the hard wooden bench seat beside him. Rachel’s original intention, when they’d left the liquor store, was to go home and borrow her own dat’s horse and wagon, but Mary Aaron had suggested they start from her house, because it had been Dathan and Elsie’s destination the night they went missing.
John Hannah had caught them harnessing the horse and had insisted on coming with them. “It’s dangerous out there,” he’d said. “Especially at night. After what happened to Elsie and Dathan, I’m not taking any chances with you two.” Before they’d left the barn, John Hannah had grimly tucked a wooden baseball bat under the seat.
Rachel and Mary Aaron had stared at one another, but neither had commented. John Hannah was one of the mildest-mannered and sweetest of her male cousins, and if he thought they needed something for self-protection, Rachel wasn’t about to argue. She’d never known him to get into a fight, but he certainly hadn’t intended to use the bat to play baseball.
As they rode along in the dark, Mary Aaron and John Hannah were still sniping at one another in typical brother-and-sister exchanges. It seemed a little lighthearted, considering they had just buried a sister, but Rachel knew that both were truly grieving and the mild-mannered arguing was a way to ease the tension they were both feeling. Rachel tried to shut them out and concentrate on the homes and woods that pressed in on both sides of the road. It was a dark night, and there were no streetlights. A single buggy passed them near the lane that led to the old sawmill, and Rachel couldn’t help wondering if Rupert’s truck was there. Or was he driving around, trying to ease one of his headaches? The air was cool. Autumn came quickly to the mountains and she was glad that she’d worn a jacket and taken a lap blanket from the tack room.
“How well do you know Titus Troyer?” Rachel asked John Hannah when there was a lull in the chatter. John Hannah and Titus were close in age, but not from the same church community. “I understand he was a friend of Dathan’s.”
“I’ve asked around. Nobody has anything bad to say about Titus. He’s a little churchy to suit me.”
“Yet he hosted a singing where kids drank alcohol,” Rachel said.
“A lot of young folks around here are rumspringa. It’s expected that they experiment with the sins of the world before they choose the Amish life,” he said. “You can bet there were no drugs on the property and that the drinking was limited to a little beer. That’s as far as Titus would let things go.”
“Kids shouldn’t drink alcohol,” Rachel insisted. “Some of them are underage, which means they’re breaking the law.”
“I didn’t say I approved of it.” John Hannah flicked the reins over the horse’s back and the animal picked up its pace. “I’m just telling you how it is, or how I think things probably went. But the drinking usually happens late, and Dathan and Elsie left early.”
“Lettie came home early, too,” Rachel mused.
“And you said you did,” Mary Aaron said to her brother. “You took Dora home.”
“Not Dora, her sister,” John Hannah corrected. “Anna Mary. I like a lot of girls. And I’m not ready to pick just one.”
Rachel drew the sleeves of her polar fleece jacket down. It was chilly in the open wagon. “You think Asa Troyer knew what was going on at the bonfire?”
“The drinking? Doubt it.”
Rachel stared out at the darkness. The wagon didn’t have battery-operated lights like a buggy would, but John Hannah had hung lanterns from the front and the back of the wagon. It was a cloudy night, with no moon to speak of, and mist lay low to the ground on both sides of the road. The fields and woods that surrounded them were blacker than black. Occasionally, a pair of eyes would gleam in the darkness, some yellow, some red and glimmering. It should have been relaxing, rolling along at the horse’s easy pace, but it wasn’t. There was something a little scary about their surroundings tonight, almost spooky. She wondered if Elsie and Dathan had thought the same thing Friday night.
They had almost reached the driveway that led up to the Troyer farm when John Hannah reined in the horse. “Look over there,” he said.
Rachel stared into the dark, but she couldn’t make out anything farther than fence posts on the side of the road. The horse perked up its ears, flicked its tail and mane, and nickered. An answering whinny came from the darkness.
“Hey!” John Hannah called.
There was no answer, but seconds later, battery lights switched on and Rachel saw that a horse and buggy had pulled off into a clearing in the trees. “Hey, yourself,” came the shouted answer in the Deitsch dialect. “Who’s there?”
“John Hannah Hostetler.” John Hannah clicked to the horse and guided it into the same area, effectively penning the horse and buggy in. “Titus? Is that you?”
“Ya, it’s me,” came the answer.
But Rachel was already climbing down and making her way over to the buggy. Titus got out. “It’s Rachel Mast,” she said, trying to see if there was anyone else still inside. Behind her, she could hear Mary Aaron.
“What are you doing out here?” Rachel asked.
“I went to visit someone, but her father wouldn’t let her out of the house. A lot of people are spooked by what happened to your cousin.”
“So you’re just sitting here?” Rachel asked.
“Ya. Watching the road.” He shook his head. “Can’t get it out of my mind. They were right here, Dathan and Elsie. Safe. And then . . .” He sighed. “I just can’t imagine what could have happened to them.”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Rachel replied. “We were coming to see if you were still up. We have a few more questions for you, if you don’t mind.”
“Ne. I don’t mind.” Titus shuffled one foot. She could make out most of his face in the buggy lights. He looked as if he’d missed a lot of sleep.
“Some things you told us about Friday night weren’t quite right,” she said.
“Such as?”
“There was beer at the bonfire, wasn’t there?” Mary Aaron came to stand at Rachel’s shoulder. “Come clean, Titus. We’re not going to take it to the bishop.”
“Or your father,” Rachel finished.
“Tell him what you like.” Titus’s voice was tight. Not angry, but clearly, he was upset.
“I’m guessing that it was Rupert Rust who supplied the beer,” Rachel said.
Titus straightened his shoulders. “I don’t tell tales on others.”
“We’re not trying to get anyone in trouble. We’re just trying to figure out what happened. Was Rupert drinking heavily?” Rachel asked. “Did he leave here drunk?”
“Rupert didn’t have a drop. Gave it up months ago. Said it was bad for his demons. Made them louder in his head.” Titus removed his hat and tossed it into the buggy. “Creepy, huh?”
“Was he driving his green truck that night? The old one that he hides up at the abandoned lumber mill?”
Titus hesitated. “Ne. He was in a wagon. If he’d come up here in a truck, my father wouldn’t have liked it. I heard that Rupert has a truck, but he didn’t bring it here Friday night.”
“But he and Dathan did get into a fight that night, didn’t they?” Rachel insisted. “Something you didn’t tell us last time we were here.”
“I didn’t want to get anyone in trouble. Rupert’s a little weird, but he wouldn’t do anything to hurt anyone. And he thought the world of Elsie. I can’t believe he’d ever do anything to her. Rupert just wants to come back, you know. Outside, it was bad for him. Real bad. He really wants the Plain life.”
“Can you tell me when Rupert left?”
Titus hesitated, and then said, “Right after the fight.”
Rachel glanced at Mary Aaron, who met her gaze, then returned her attention to Titus. “Before Dathan and Elsie?”
Titus nodded.
“Like, how long?”
Titus thought for a moment. “Half hour, maybe.”
“A half an hour would be enough time to get to the pickup at the sawmill,” Mary Aaron whispered to Rachel as they walked back toward the wagon where John Hannah was waiting for them.
“That’s what I was thinking,” Rachel agreed.
The ride home was uneventful, unless you counted the herd of deer that ran across the road ahead of them and nearly spooked the horse. The three of them didn’t talk much. What was there to say? Rachel felt as though she was back at the beginning. She had lots of suspicions. The fact that Rupert left before Dathan and Elsie certainly had her wondering again. But she still had no solid clues. She felt as though she was at a dead end. She doubted that the police had anything more. And if someone didn’t come up with some idea, Elsie’s and Dathan’s deaths would just be one more ghost story to add to all the others here in the valley.
* * *
“Is that too warm for you?” Rachel adjusted the faucet so that a mix of hot and cold water sprayed on her mother’s hair, or what was left of it. She, Lettie, and their mother were in the main bathroom of the farmhouse on the lower floor.
“Tell your sister that it feels good,” Mam said to Lettie. “It’s just the right temperature. My scalp itches, and the warm water and shampoo ease me.”
“Mam says—” Lettie began.
“I heard her.” Rachel glanced at her sister. Lettie’s damp hair was wrapped in a thick white towel, and her eyes twinkled with mischief. “I can hear you, Mam,” Rachel said.
Her mother ignored her. “Is Mary Aaron coming back to spend the night again tonight, Lettie?” she asked. “She’s welcome here anytime, but I saw her leave just before breakfast. Did she go home? Her mother may need her.”
Rachel squeezed the water out of her mother’s thin hair. Bald patches were appearing at the back of her head and on either side. Her mother had always had such thick dark hair, but what was left was quickly turning to silver-gray with darker threads running through it. “Hand me that conditioner,” Rachel said to Lettie.
Rachel poured out a generous amount and gently rubbed it in. Her mother sighed with pleasure as Rachel continued to massage and rub her scalp. “Mary Aaron went home, but I think she was going to Stone Mill House to check on things at some point today.”
“Some people in the community worry about Mary Aaron spending so much time at the B&B around all those English,” their mam commented. “Maybe in this terrible time of mourning, she’d be better off at home on the farm with her family.”
“Mary Aaron’s an adult,” Rachel said patiently. “She can make her own decisions. She’s been a godsend for me this summer, but if she didn’t want to be there, I’d find another solution.”
“Enough. Tell your sister she can rinse it out now,” their mother said.
“It’s better if we let the conditioner sit on your hair for a few minutes,” Rachel advised.
“Rachel says—” Lettie began.
“I heard her. I’m not deaf,” their mam said. “Hand me a towel, Lettie.”
Lettie rolled her eyes and handed a towel to Rachel, who wrapped it around their mother’s head. “Not long,” Lettie said. “We’ll just leave it five or ten minutes.”
“All right, all right.” Their mother settled herself onto the closed toilet seat. “You know, just because your cousin is a capable young woman with a strong will doesn’t mean that she shouldn’t have our extra attention now. Mary Aaron loved her sister dearly, and now that Elsie is gone, Mary Aaron needs gentle handling. She needs her family, all of her family, to get through this. She needs our prayers above all.”
Lettie nodded. “Ya. I have been praying for Elsie and for the family.”
Rachel put an arm around Lettie’s shoulders and hugged her. “We all miss her.”
“You have to remember that Elsie is with God now,” their mother said. “I know you miss her, but she is in a better place. And we will see her again.” She folded her work-worn hands in her lap. She’d lost weight since she’d become ill, and her hands were thinner than Rachel had ever remembered them. Still, they were strong hands, she told herself, the hands of a survivor.
Lettie removed her own towel and began to comb out her long hair.
“I’m still really confused about what your sister has or hasn’t found out about what happened that night,” their mam said.
“They had to have met someone on the road,” Rachel said. “One of the neighbors saw a green pickup truck, an older truck, on the road. Rupert Rust has a green truck that he parks out by the abandoned sawmill.”
“He wants to join the church, he’ll have to get rid of that motor truck,” their mother remarked.
“He used to go with Elsie, and he and Dathan didn’t get along,” Rachel continued. “That makes Rupert someone to look at.”
Their mother shook her head. She pulled off the towel and handed it to Lettie. “I don’t think Rupert would hurt anyone. He saw enough violence across the water where the Englishers sent him to shoot at foreigners. He’s messed up in his head, but I’ve known him since he was a babe. He’s no killer.”
“I agree. Rupert would never have harmed Elsie,” Lettie insisted. “He’s a good person. He wants to live right. That’s why he came home to the valley. Mam’s right. He’s mixed up, but he’s really sweet.”
Rachel rested her balled hands on her hips and glanced from one of them to the other. Lettie looked the most like their mother of any of them. She’d be a real beauty if she smiled more and didn’t take herself so seriously. It was clear to Rachel that Lettie had a thing for Rupert, so it was natural that her sister would defend him. But it surprised her that their mam thought he was innocent as well. Their mother was far more astute than Lettie. And she was an excellent judge of character.
“Lots of old green pickup trucks,” Lettie said. “And the neighbors must know Rupert’s truck if they knew it was there. No one said it was Rupert, did they?”
Rachel shook her head.
“Then if the bad person was in a green truck, it had to be another green truck,” their mam suggested. “So, maybe your sister who wants to play Englisher detective should see who else drives a green truck that would be on that road at that time of night.”
“There must be a dozen old green trucks around here,” Rachel protested. “You want me to check them all out?”
“If I was playing detective,” their mother replied, “I would get in my motor car and start driving around and asking more questions. I would find out who owns those trucks and where they were Friday night.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Time to rinse this stuff out. I’ve more to do today than sit here in this bathroom in my nightgown.” Lettie took their mother’s arm and supported her as she walked back to the sink. Rachel reached for the faucet, but her mother put her hand over it first. “A person who wanted to see right done wouldn’t give up so easily.”
Rachel swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m not giving up, Mam. Mary Aaron and I have talked to everyone we can think of. We rode around in the dark last night, hoping to—” She exhaled. “I feel like I’m going around in circles.” But almost at once she remembered what Rupert had said about seeing what was up with Charles. What was he insinuating? He’d suggested that Charles was on the roads at night. Why?
“They never found the wagon, did they?” Lettie asked.
“Ne.” Rachel hesitated. “Charles said that his horse came home and he was out looking for the wagon when he found Dathan’s body by the road.”
“So someone who wanted to play Englisher detective should look for the wagon. Horses are great for going home if they’re loose. But the horse didn’t unhitch itself, and it didn’t take off the harness. If your sister wants to help, she should find the wagon. Find the wagon, and find whoever hurt Elsie and Dathan.”
“Just like that,” Rachel said as she turned the water on. “Find a wagon in this valley. How many wagons do you think there are? A hundred? More?”
“Maybe your sister will find the wagon wherever the green truck lives,” their mother suggested.
“I’ve been looking and looking and asking and asking and I’ve gotten nowhere,” Rachel said. “Am I supposed to go from one farm to the next, asking to see if they have a wagon? And how would I know it was Charles’s wagon if I found it? Most wagons look alike.” She finished rinsing her mother’s hair and wrapped it in a towel again. “I don’t know what to do next,” she said. “If you have any ideas, I’d like to hear them.”
“Tell your sister,” her mother started. “That—”
“Ne!” Lettie interrupted, startling both Rachel and their mother. “I’m tired of playing this game, Mam. Rachel has given the last five months of her life to us. She’s done everything she can to help you. Can’t you speak to her?”
Their mother opened her mouth and then closed it. Moisture clouded her eyes. She reached a hand out to Lettie. “I don’t know if I can,” she said hoarsely.
“Well, I’ve had enough,” Lettie flung back. “I’m not doing this for you anymore. It’s not working. Rachel isn’t coming back to us. But she’s still your daughter. And my sister. And I’m tired of seeing you hurt her.”
“Lettie, please,” their mam croaked.
“Ne.” Lettie shook off her mother’s hand. “Maybe I’ll go to the B&B and stay with Mary Aaron. And maybe I won’t come home. I’ll just live there.”