15 
15 Be wary of a caution spoken by a friend when the words seem more to wound than to warn.
ANONYMOUS
Fannie left at a run, her lessons completed for the day.
Rachel was standing at the front window, watching her little sister bolt across the field for home, when she spied Samuel Beiler coming down the road. There was no mistaking Samuel’s buggy, even at a distance. His fancy, high-trotter of a horse made him hard to miss.
Samuel Beiler’s liking for rich-blooded, fine horses was no secret among the People. Gossip had it that he paid a pretty penny for this latest one. Of course, an Amish man’s liking for good horses wasn’t unusual. Not a bit. But it had always struck Rachel as somewhat odd that for a man known to be exceedingly tight with his money, Samuel traded or bought and sold his horses mighty often.
Hard on the heels of her thoughts came a sting of guilt. She was being unfair. She had no way of knowing if Samuel was extravagant with his money in any area, and even if he was, it was certainly none of her business.
She sighed when he slowed the buggy and pulled off the road in front of the house. What was it this time? She had so hoped he’d finally given up on any idea of courting her. By now her resistance to his numerous proposals of marriage should have quashed his interest. Yet he seemed intent on drawing her into a relationship she couldn’t even bear to consider.
Apparently he continued to believe that if he was patient and exerted enough pressure, she would eventually give in and become his wife. Rachel knew that many among the People believed she was foolish to reject Samuel. Some had even spoken to her about her unwise discouragement of his affection.
She couldn’t help it. Although he had been a friend of her family and a deacon and a preacher in the church for years, something about Samuel kindled an uneasy sense of distrust in Rachel. She simply could not imagine living under the same roof with him, much less tolerating the intimacies of marriage with him.
Not that he’d ever made any sort of improper advances. But there were times when he looked at her in a way that made her feel unaccountably…unclean. And there was something else, something that hinted of a current of anger continually churning just beneath the surface of his seemingly impeccable behavior.
Anger always put Rachel on edge. It was something she’d never had to live with. Her parents had both been even-tempered, and Eli, even when distressed or exhausted, never said a harsh word to her. His disposition had been unfailingly gentle and good-natured.
Truth was, she was never completely comfortable around Samuel or entirely trusting of him despite his declarations of high regard and affection for her. Yet most of the time she managed to treat him with the respect due to a leader in the church and to a family friend, which he claimed to be.
Even so, because any esteem or show of genuine warmth for him required real effort on her part, she had come to dread his visits. Although he usually called as a leader in the church, supposedly to see to the welfare and needs of a widow in the community, too often his calls turned personal. It was as if Samuel had made it his mission to rescue her from widowhood and bring her under his protection.
And his control.
Rachel, however, felt no need to be rescued or protected, and she certainly had no desire to be controlled.
For once, Samuel actually seemed to have come with the legitimate purpose of checking on a parishioner’s well-being. He spent only a few minutes in impersonal conversation before carrying in a hickory smoked ham sent by his sister, accompanied by an applesauce coffee cake large enough to feed half a dozen people. A wonderful cook who enjoyed sharing the fruits of her labor, Rebekah was forever favoring Rachel with delights from her kitchen and smokehouse.
Rachel appreciated the wonderfully gut fare, but she sometimes thought Rebekah must consider all widows to be poor starving souls dependent on the kitchens of others to keep them from wasting away. But with Samuel’s impersonal behavior and his sister’s generosity, she felt some of her earlier antagonism drain away.
He insisted on filling her wood box, and when he finished, Rachel felt the least she could do was offer him a hot cup of tea.
“If it’s no trouble,” he said, warming his hands at the stove.
“No, of course not. It will take only a moment.”
They drank their tea in relative silence until Samuel said, with his usual bluntness, “I hope you’re being more careful these days, Rachel.”
Rachel looked at him. “Careful?”
“Since your house was broken into. Surely you lock your doors now, even though it’s a bitter thing that we need to do so.”
“My doors were locked the night of the break-in, Samuel,” Rachel said quietly. “And yes, I always make sure they’re locked.”
He nodded. “A woman alone can’t be too careful in these times.” He paused. “So the intruder forced your doors, then?”
“The side door. He broke the glass and reached in to unlock the door from inside.”
“I came by when I heard to see if I could help with repairs, but you weren’t here. Only Dr. Sebastian and that Gant fellow working inside. The doctor said you were staying with him and your mother at the time.”
Now he was watching her closely, with that intense, disapproving stare he sometimes adopted with her. She felt as if she were a child caught in a questionable act and he a reproving elder.
Rachel chose not to reply but simply glanced away. His reference to “that Gant fellow” had stirred her irritation with him again.
“Why didn’t you let the People know you needed help, Rachel? You would have had friends at your door the moment they heard.”
“Doc is one of the People, remember? And Captain Gant knew about it as soon as it happened, because we were together—”
She nearly groaned the instant the words escaped her. Her impatience with what she viewed as Samuel’s interference had made her careless.
He looked at her, frowning as if she’d just confessed a terrible sin. “You were with Gant?”
His tone made it sound as if he’d just tasted something vile. “Didn’t Bishop Graber warn you that you weren’t to be with the outsider?”
“He said we weren’t to be alone together. The night of the break-in we were at my mother’s house having supper.”
Please, don’t let him press for more…
She saw his quick intake of breath, his look of surprise as he stood. “What is this? Your mother is entertaining the two of you as a couple?”
Rachel clenched her hands. “It wasn’t like that.”
There was no mistaking the anger that glazed his expression as he stood glaring down at her “Then how was it, Rachel?” He paused. “And how did Gant find out about the break-in if the two of you were at your mother’s?”
An unreasonable wave of guilt slammed into Rachel, a feeling that only renewed her resentment toward Samuel. This was none of his business, after all. Why should his remarks make her feel guilty?
But it was his business if he chose to make it so. He was a leader in the church, and therefore she was answerable to him for any behavior outside the Ordnung—the rules, unwritten as they were, that regulated the Amish way of life.
“Rachel, didn’t the bishop instruct you and Gant not to be together?”
“Bishop Graber said we weren’t to be alone together, that’s true. But after supper, because of all the bad things that have been happening, Jeremiah—Captain Gant—insisted on seeing me safely home.” She cringed at the note of defensiveness in her voice.
Samuel shook his head, his expression one of disbelief. “You have always had a bent toward rebellion, Rachel, but this is too much.” He stopped, and his expression turned hard. “What were you thinking, deliberately disobeying your bishop?”
Rachel couldn’t stop herself. “Bishop Graber is dead, Samuel.”
His mouth thinned. “You would do well to remember that there will be a new bishop, and he must be told of your disobedience. Your behavior cannot be ignored.”
A cold twist of unease coiled through Rachel as she was reminded that Samuel himself might be the next bishop. She knew as a certainty that if that should come about, her “behavior” would most definitely not be ignored. And in that jarring, unguarded moment, she finally put a name to the feeling Samuel Beiler had long evoked in her.
Dread.
She dreaded this man who for years had called himself a friend to her and her family, who had made numerous pronouncements of affection for her, even proposed marriage.
Her chair scraped against the floor as she shot to her feet. “I think you should leave now, Samuel.”
“Rachel—”
“I mean it. I want you to leave.”
He continued to study her, his stony silence oddly threatening. Rachel could almost sense him struggling to control his temper.
Finally, he released a long breath. “Your foolishness demeans you, Rachel. But I can see there’s no reasoning with you right now, so I’ll go.”
He started to turn but then hesitated. “It’s my responsibility as one of the leaders in the church to remind you that there’s always a penalty for disobedience to the Ordnung. Oftentimes a severe one. I hope you’ll give some serious thought to what you may bring upon yourself if you continue on this course.”
Rachel didn’t trust herself to respond, but merely stood waiting until he left, her hands clenched so painfully at her sides that her nails felt as if they would pierce her skin. The moment he stepped outside, she fairly threw herself at the door and locked it.