Chapter Six

The more Elli rambled worriedly, the more Cullen felt it was necessary to push his horse a little harder. Grace Miller was not only expecting in a couple of short months—which he still couldn’t fathom, given the size of her—but she was alone in that cabin. Every scenario imaginable surfaced, and he slapped the reins once more.

Cullen wouldn’t judge her or her situation. Judging others was a sin, too, one he had never courted with before. But her well-being and that of an innocent couldn’t be ignored as easily as it seemed to be for others.

“We shouldn’t worry. Grace will be fine.” Elli stiffened, looking ahead as she always did. “I shouldn’t have shared her business with you.” Her hands wrung inside each other, her features pinched as if she were scolding herself for gossiping. “It’s not right to give you a bad impression when no one really knows her whole story. I for one know what it is like to be judged before people got to know me.”

“You were seeking. That’s different,” he said flatly. Seekers were Englischers who wanted to become Amish. Elli practically lived the life already, but when she fell in love with Abram, her commitments took full form. “But I am glad you did tell me. If I knew she was alone, without a soul to look in on her and far from family, I would have seen to it that she was okay. The bishop would not scold looking in on another’s well-being.”

“I still shouldn’t have told you, it was wrong of me, but I think Tessie hasn’t been checking on her like she should have. Her bruder sent word to do little for her, but not let her starve.” Elli groaned. “I should have taken it upon myself to see to her, but I have been so busy at the creamery.” She shook her head. “It’s no excuse. If that were my daughter…”

Cullen reached over and patted Elli’s hand. It was no one’s fault.

“It’s been days since we were up there cleaning and stocking her pantry. What kind of neighbors have we been?” Elli’s voice cracked, no longer sounding convincing but shaky, emotional. What kind of neighbor had he been? Cullen appreciated Elli’s honesty. Many would not be so quick to help one who had fallen.

The closer they got to the little cabin, the more guilt found a hole to wallow inside his gut. Even if he hadn’t known she had been sent here to hide her pregnancy, Cullen still should have seen about her and the husband he thought she had. They were newcomers who deserved help getting settled. It was the Amish way.

God did not say to forsake the fallen. Bishop Mast had said nothing of shunning a newcomer during services yesterday, but Cullen was fairly certain the bishop wouldn’t have. John Mast was a kind shepherd.

The sound of clacking scrap metal in the back played an unpracticed tune. He veered more to the left to avoid another string of dips in the gravel road. He couldn’t help but wonder if Grace had been afraid all these days alone, if she felt as if her community had just left her to the wolves, hoping to erase whatever stain she placed on her family name.

“If her daed sent her here to hide her shame from their community and Tessie agreed to help her, then she should have done so. I shall have a word with her on this.” Cullen spoke between clenched teeth.

It unnerved him, the cruelty of others. Worse was how some fathers tended to treat their offspring with hardness instead of love. Marty’s daed had been the hardest of them all. Cullen should not have waited so long to take her from that house. Marty was going to join the church, just as he had. If she just would have had more time, if he would have just moved things a little faster, life could have been different.

He shook his head clear. Not right now. He wasn’t going to do that to himself again, dig up ten-year-old hurts. He needed to focus on the day, the present.

“What kind of people are we that we don’t tend to our own?” The reprimand was for him as much as it was for his community. And if Gott had seen to it that the expecting woman was safe and well, he would share his thoughts with Bishop Mast in hopes that such encouragement would be placed upon listening ears during the next preaching. “He who is without sin, cast the first stone.” Had their minister, David Zook, not preached that into the hearts and ears of the community regularly?

“I’m glad to know you care about others, about our little Grace enough to help. I think sometimes being a friend to someone who needs one can be a healing balm to much of what breaks us.”

He was always helpful. Lent a hand whenever an extra was needed, but Elli’s tone suggested more. Was Elli referring to Grace needing a friend, or him?

Reaching the cabin, Cullen stopped the charcoal gelding inches from the porch, or what was supposed to be a porch. It had been more than six summers ago when the porch sank under the strain of a heavy winter storm. The front door lay open, but he suspected the warm weather might be the cause of that. Upon closer inspection they noted the linens scattered from the inside of the cabin, out, and white sprinkled across the threshold. Something terrible had gone wrong, and he sprang over the side of the buggy, not taking the time to help Elli down, and in one step reached the rickety porch. Sliding a boot over the porch planks, he felt the coarse texture of sugar underneath.

“Did something get in here?” Elli asked, standing right behind him. How the forty-five-year-old woman got down and near him so quickly was a mystery, but not the biggest one right now.

“I don’t know.” But he did. The frosted floor revealed nothing, but something had been spilled on the ground to his right, and the footprints there were as loud as his own adrenaline-fueled heartbeat. “Elli, stay here,” he ordered in a firm tone. Cullen hoped, for once, she listened. Elli tended to beat her own rhythm more often than not. She had spent far too many years in the world to simply listen to the likes of him.

Sunlight leaked in a stream over the heart of the room. He searched the shadowy corners, the floor, but Grace was nowhere in the small space that made up a home. He peered ahead at the only other door in the cabin and rushed through it with haste.

“Grace! Grace Miller!” Fear for what he might find was smothered by the need to know what had occurred here and how he was going to fix it. Busting through the bedroom door took no effort with its rusty hinges. He had put enough heft into it that the whole thing came down in a slow-moving crash to the floor. Dust swirled upward, and he tasted the flavors of years of rot and earth in the air. Fanning the cloud, he coughed out the debris threatening his lungs.

“Oh, Grace!” Elli cried out, shoving past him. Feet glued to the floor, Cullen let Elli approach the half-dressed woman hunkered down in the shadows behind a fortress made out of a small bed. A thick string of crimson streaked the bedding and crossed the room. Fear for Grace, for what injuries she might have sustained, sent his heart hammering against his chest. A strange wave of protectiveness washed over him. His eyes narrowed, following the trail of blood covering the wooden floor and into the far corner. There in a dark corner next to a worn-out old black trunk lay the source of the lost liquids. A coyote. “She killed it,” he muttered, momentarily relieved and shocked that the little woman had managed such a deed, especially one this size.

Turning back to face her, Cullen watched Grace’s head rise slowly upward. Bloodshot eyes rimmed with swollen flesh immediately began pouring everything she had left down her cheeks. And he was certain by the looks of her, she had little left. It was all he could do not to rush to her as well, scoop her up and deliver her straight to her aenti’s door. Let Tess see the results of her neglect. No one deserved to left to fend for themselves.

He removed his straw hat to keep from clenching his fist so hard. Maybe he should write her family back home, too. Describe this scene. Surely it would bring them to their senses and break their hearts. She needed to be home, with family, cared for. Not dumped off and forgotten.

Grace’s long dark hair hung in a tangled braid over one shoulder. She looked a mess. Taking a slow, cautious step toward the bed, he noted the broken broom handle gripped tightly in her hand, dark crimson dried on the splintered end. It would not have been his weapon of choice, but he was learning that she had very few choices now, didn’t she? A surge of pity washed over him.

Elli gently pried the broom from her grasp. “Shh now, dear. All is okay.”

Grace’s knuckles remained white from gripping the broom handle for dear life. Insight clasped Cullen by the heart. Grace had indeed fought off the menacing coyote he had heard last night. He couldn’t believe himself. Why hadn’t he thought to check on her? Was this who he still was? The man who was always too late to make a difference?

“I prayed Gott would tell someone I was here. Are they all gone?” Grace looked about wildly, as if anticipating another beast to pounce out of the darkened shadows of the dim room.

“Jah, the coyotes are gone, Grace,” he answered, still lost in the look of her. Her expression matched that of defeat, mingled with determination. It was an ironic mixture. She kept her frazzled gaze on Elli while her lower lip trembled, sending a rippling effect over the rest of her until even her shoulders trembled uncontrollably. Cullen figured she was experiencing a stage of shock, though he wasn’t an expert on such things.

He had read about it once, after finding Marty that night her father kicked her out. She, too, had trembled like that. Martha, the local midwife and only person with knowledge of such things, had said shock did that to a person after an accident or a terrible event. Fluids, warm blankets, that’s what Grace needed, best as he could remember. That’s what history was screaming into his ear.

“I only got one of them gut. I hurt the other before he took off with a third. They were not afraid,” she said, her voice quivering. “They were not coyotes,” her whisper added before lowering her head again.

Elli closed in and offered a gentle hand around her shoulders. Cullen watched Grace lean into that comfort as if she had been starved of such attention. Not too many women would have done what Grace had, and certainly not gone unscathed. He flinched. He hoped she was unscathed.

Elli looked to him with a long face, and he motioned his hand for her to look Grace over.

“Check her for injuries.” Cullen turned his back to them, not leaving entirely, and focused on the dog in the corner. Grace was right. At first glance the tan coat resembled his wildlife neighbors, but now that Cullen’s eyes had adjusted to the dimness of the room, the critter was double in size, and the black saddle along its back revealed a dog, a dangerous pet loosed from its restraints. He made a mental note to inquire, seek its owner, and let them know what had occurred here. Maybe even contact the local sheriff. He was good for handling such things.

“They are gone, Grace.” Elli assured her once more. “Are you hurt?” Sliding the bed from the wall, Elli began searching Grace from head to toe.

“Please call me Gracie. You came to find me when no one else cared. You are my freind.” Her weak, raspy tone melted Cullen’s heart.

“Can you move, Gracie?” Elli asked in slow, drawn out words.

“I am afraid I have been down here since they chased me into the room last nacht. I am not certain I can get up myself.” All night and all morning? Cullen mentally slapped his forehead, hard. It was official; he was the worst neighbor.

When he heard them stirring, Cullen turned as Elli helped Grace to her feet. Her gown was stained with dirt and splatters of blood, her legs certainly too weak to hold her, and that shaky arm was not capable of cradling her center as she was trying so hard to do. Despite the need to offer compassion, help, Cullen hesitated. He had never touched another woman besides Marty or his mutter before. Special circumstances, he told himself.

Stepping around the angled bed, Cullen bent, and picked Grace up from the floor. Her body was thin, too thin for a woman in her condition, and he was careful not to break her like a dry stick in his healthy arms. The scent of sweat and blood and lavender wafted from her. He didn’t care much for the smell of blood, never had much stomach for it, but the soft hint of lavender had a way of drowning it.

When he aimed for the door, Grace squirmed with resistance. “Where are you taking me?” She pushed against him in a panic he was unprepared for. She sure could make something so easy become difficult.

“You cannot stay here alone, Grace Miller. It is not safe for you in your condition. I am taking you to be seen by a doctor, then delivering you to your aenti.”

“Let go of me!”

Cullen suddenly found out just how strong the exhausted newcomer was after fighting off dogs with a broken-handled broom from behind her bed.

In one surprising motion, she leaped from his cautious hold and hit the sugar-covered floor. Her bare feet slid, pushing away from his kindness. Cullen reached out to steady her, but the look of horror on her face stopped him dead, and he raised his arms in surrender, hoping she would still herself before she fell. “I am no hund you need to order about.” Was that what she thought he was doing? Shock. She was surely not thinking clearly.

“Grace, Cullen is only trying to help you, and he is right. You cannot stay here. Your arm is bleeding and needs tended.” Cullen knew by the worry in Elli Schwartz’s eyes that she was thinking rabies, as was he once he noticed the amount of blood covering her sleeve.

“They only scratched me, and they were not mad. They were hungry.” Her stubbornness yanked her away from Elli’s touch and she quickly covered the wound with her other hand. Hiding it, she winced. “I am not to go elsewhere. This is where my daed ordered me to stay and I cannot disobey him.” She took a deep breath. “Danke for coming to see about me, but I will be fine.”

She planted her feet firmly and righted herself as if ready to defend against him.

Cullen took a step back, throwing up both hands once more to calm her. Was she not seeing the concern here?

Studying her and her heated determination that she needed no help, he considered grinning. With her messy hair, filthy nightgown, and those brilliant, raging blue eyes, she was a sight, and she had a bit more spunk than the woman he had seen cowed behind Betty days ago.

“You have been through a horrible ordeal,” he tried to reason with her in his calmest voice. “You have to trust we only want to get help for you. You could get an infection. You need to be seen to.”

He awaited her reply, an audible answer over that silent glare. It didn’t come. He lifted a brow to encourage her further. Nothing, just proud defiance, or was it trust she was having a hard time with? She made him want to pull his hair out.

“Cullen, please excuse us for a bit while I help Grace get cleaned up,” Elli said. Cullen gave her a nod. Maybe Elli could talk some sense into her. Because against her wants or not, she would be tended to. Stomping out the door, for the life of him, Cullen would never understand the female species. If there were a front door that worked like front doors should, he would have given it a gruff slam in his exit.