CHAPTER TEN

 

His heart raced and his mind envisioned how he’d spend the three thousand dollars that he’d earn for taking down Mark Yoder’s daughter and granddaughter.  He’d been part of a four-man unit to find her and kill her.  Trouble had already plagued the Costa Rican bad boys, for one of the men; “Grande Man” had had a change of heart and had felt sorry for the single mother.  A couple of beatings and the kidnapping of his two sisters and mother, and he was back in the operation. 

He turned the Texas-plated truck onto the narrow country road and looked down at the directions to get to Jeremiah Troyer’s farm.  He had about three miles left after he passed Clover Road.  He squinted through the heavy rain that was pouring down on the truck’s window shield and barely saw the black horse and buggy that was moving like molasses in front of him.  He smiled; could it be the girl and Jeremiah?

He tapped the gas pedal and swerved around the buggy, but the heavy ran made it impossible to see who was in the buggy.  He stomped the brake pedal, grabbed a poncho, and jumped out of the truck.  Making his way to the buggy, he grinned.  It was the Mark Yoder’s daughter, and she was alone.

“You’re going to get a cold being out here in this stormy weather!”  Miriam yelled.  The rain made it too hard to see the gun that set snuggly on his right hip, and the cold, hard rain hid his evil eyes. 

He would be friendly, and then grab her. “Are you Miriam Yoder?  If so, where is your daughter?”  An extremely unusual downpour of rain fell upon him making him feel as if he was back in Costa Rican’s rainy season.  He got closer and looked for an answer.

She told the truth, not knowing his bad intentions.  If she had only known, but she had thought she had outran the bad guys. “My daughter, Grace, is right next to me.  Who are you?”  Miriam smiled.  She felt sorry for this man, for he surely wanted to see Grace bad enough to leap out of his warm, dry truck.  Could he be one of Jeremiah’s family members? 

Three thousand dollars. He had it made.  The mission would soon be accomplished. “I’m from Costa Rica!”  He calmly said as he shook his body to drain the excess water off of his poncho.

“No! No!  You can’t take us.  Please don’t take us.  I am a mother, and my daughter needs me. Please!” They really were out to kill the whole familye.  She should have known.

He felt sorry for her plight, and being that her parents’  religion had gotten them killed, he knew that when he’d come back to tell his upper ring leader that she’s denied Christ, he would let her slide. She’d had a child out of wedlock, so she was probably living life on the edge, being disguised in a horse and buggy and bonnet.  He said now, “Answer one question correctly and I’ll let you both leave alive.”  He cocked the gun and leaned into the buggy.  “Do you believe in Jesus?”

She never hesitated, “Jesus is my Savior, and I believe in Him, trust Him, and follow Him.”

He snickered and then got in her face. “You’re just like your meaningless father; you Christians run everything!” He was talking about her father building a church on the corner where they had dealt drugs for years.  They’d tried everything, even killed the man, but that church still stood on the corner of Fiesta Street in Costa Rica.

Suddenly, she was yanked by her thick blond hair and pulled out of the dry buggy into the freezing rain.  Face down; she was thrown against the passenger’s seat of his truck.  She grimaced as her arms were bent back behind her back, and then tied at the wrists. 

He screamed, “Don’t move up where anyone can see you!”

The truck door closed. She coughed up dust from her lungs and felt the dust-covered seat merge with her cold wet face, forming a sticky coat of mud.  He was going to kill her.  There was no way of escaping.  Her taking her daughter without Jeremiah’s permission would cost her and her daughter’s life.  She sobbed; why’d she had to  disobey such a nice, hospitable man like Jeremiah, one whom she adored and wanted to spend the rest of her life with, until she turned old and grey; then he wouldn’t want her any more, for her blonde locks wouldn’t look like his sister Sara’s hair. 

The door reopened and she could hear Grace crying.  He put the gun to her head and said, “Honey all you have to do is to not believe in that Man.  Just one time; say you don’t know Him.  It’s so sad to see such a beautiful girl with a cute little baby die by believing in a Man that never was real.”

“He was real!  He was very real!  He came; he died; and he rose on Easter Sunday. He’s alive today in heaven and He looks down on you.”

The man was silent.  The truck engine raced up and the sound of the gas pedal arose.  Where was he taking her?  Would someone notice the empty buggy?  It looked like she and Grace were taking their last ride. 

*****

 

 

“Miriam Ruth Yoder; she’s the one that lives in Troyer’s hickory tree house and is apparently courting him.  She’s in the line of fire.  Trooper Jenkins just found the empty buggy.”  The dark-haired US Marshall spoke quickly and bluntly, and he had to, for there was one Costa Rica gangster left standing and that man had his prize:  a former Old Order Amish girl and her baby.  He knew that they had mistakenly targeted another single mother and her infant daughter, leaving their bodies naked, bound, and tortured in West Virginia.  He was trying to beat the clock, but would he succeed?

“Where is Troyer?’  The SWAT Team Commander asked as he stood straight with his shoulders squared.  His heavy gear meant business, even if he had to take some bullets to save a young mother and her daughter.

“He’s at his house.  He has no idea where Miriam was headed, and he seems to think that she didn’t take the baby with her, that one of the Amish sisters took her to give his nieces, or foster daughters, a break.  I think the girls are covering up for her.  I think she’s got her daughter with her.”

“That’s not good. Call in Franklin, Officer Smith!”  The SWAT Commander ordered.  “Detective Franklin is military and a Pediatric Registered Nurse.  We’ll need him in case the baby has been injured.  Let’s all gather in a circle and pray before heading out.”

That’s how it was in Walnut Creek: a town that come together and prayed together, and although there were differences in opinion about whether the mother should have had the baby, they sent up a prayer for protection. 

Two offices down, at the Cabinet for Family and Children, a neatly-groomed, ocean pearl-laced elderly social worker held hands with her staff and led a prayer chain.  Was God listening?  Angels swirled down from heaven looking for a dust-covered blonde and her precious baby girl, and Someone named Jesus Christ led the way to the lantern-lit campsite, a place of a wicked nest in need of His Divine Intervention.

The SWAT Team Commander closed, “The Bible says to believe in Him, and He will set you free!” There were nods all around as the Team grabbed their guns and headed out on a mission.