Danger In Amish Country. Marta Perry
the trees, and wet branches sagged, waiting for her to walk into them. She moved quickly, hugging her jacket around her. It was only sensible to get to the warmth and light of home as soon as possible.
The path wound along the creek, where the water rushed over the stones, fed by the rain. She resolutely did not look toward the opposite side, not that she could have seen the cliff from here anyway. Still, if—
Her skin prickled. A sound, some alien noise, had disturbed her. She was as familiar with the usual sounds along the path as she was the tone of her schoolroom. She slowed, listening, trying to identify the sound. It was the faintest murmur, but it almost sounded like footsteps on the path behind her.
Sara whirled, staring, but no one was there. Ferhoodled, that was what she was, letting herself imagine things. She hurried on. She wasn’t frightened exactly. She’d walked this way almost every day since she was six. But the loneliest section of the path was just ahead of her now, where it dipped into the pine woods before coming out behind the barn.
It was always dark and silent in the pines. Shadowy even on a bright day, which this surely wasn’t. Well, if she didn’t go through the pines, she wouldn’t get home, not unless she went clear back to the school and walked home along the road.
The thought of turning and walking toward the sound she thought she’d heard made her heart quail. No, it was better to go on.
She strode into the trees, trying not to imagine things in the shadows. She was perfectly all right; in a few minutes she’d be home, and it was ridiculous to let herself be spooked.
A sound came again, from behind her and to the right—like a body pushing through the undergrowth beyond the pines. Her heart jerked, and she forced herself to turn around, to call out.
“Is someone there?” The dense shadows swallowed up her voice.
No answer. But suddenly the bushes shook as if someone was forcing his way through them. In a moment he’d step into the clear space under the pines where nothing grew. She’d see him.
No. Sara spun and ran, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her schoolbag thumping against her hip. Were those footsteps behind her or the thudding of her own heart? She didn’t know, and she wouldn’t stop to find out.
She ran on, letting the bag slip down so that she could grasp the strap in her hand, with some vague thought of fending off an attack. An image of a body falling from the cliff filled her mind, accelerating her fear.
And then she broke through into the cleared ground behind the barn, which glowed with a welcoming light. She raced through the door and into the comforting presence of her startled father and brother.
FIVE
Caleb didn’t stop at the end of the path as he usually did when he walked Rachel to school in the morning. The memory of her frightened cries in the middle of the night was too strong. He wouldn’t relinquish her hand until they’d reached the safety of the school.
He spotted Sara almost immediately, standing by the porch, in conversation with a man he recognized as the school board head. It didn’t look as if either of them were enjoying their talk.
Rachel tugged at his hand, apparently ready to join some of the other youngsters at the swings.
“Have a gut day.” He touched her cheek lightly, wanting to hold her tight and knowing he couldn’t. “Listen to Teacher Sara, ya?”
“I will.” She hesitated. “You’ll komm after school?”
“I’ll be here,” he promised. “Go on, run and play until the bell rings.”
When he glanced at Sara again, she was alone and looking relieved. Catching his eye, she came toward him, smiling but not, he thought, quite as blooming as usual.
“Is something wrong?” he asked bluntly when she was close enough.
“No, not at all,” she said too quickly. “How is Rachel?”
“She had another bad night.” Some things he’d rather keep to himself, but if Sara were to help Rachel, she had to know. “I tried to get her to tell me what frightened her, but she wouldn’t.” His frustration was probably obvious.
“I’m so sorry.” Distress filled Sara’s face. “I hoped...” She let that trail off.
“You talked to the kinner about what happened, Rachel says.”
Sara seemed to brace herself for his disapproval. “I felt I had to.”
“Ya, I know,” he said quickly, not liking that she expected instant criticism from him. “I understand. They’d be imagining worse if you didn’t tell them.”
Relief flooded her face. “I wish other parents understood that.”
“Giving you a hard time, are they?”
“Not all, just a few. Silas Weaver in particular.” She broke off as a buggy swung around in the lane next to them.
Her niece, little Becky, hopped down and raced off toward Rachel. Sara’s brother leaned across the seat, grinning.
“Morning, Caleb. Sara, have you seen any more bogeymen since last night?”
“Very funny, Isaac.” But he was already driving off.
Caleb studied her, alerted by the tension in Sara’s face. “What did your brother mean?”
“It was nothing.” But she rubbed her arms as if she were chilled. “I just... I went home a bit later than usual yesterday. It was such a dark day, and I thought I heard someone following me along the path.”
He frowned, sensing it was more serious than she wanted to let on. “Did you see anyone?”
“Not exactly.” She seemed to be trying to get it straight in her mind. “I thought I heard someone behind me, but when I looked, no one was there. Then when I reached the pine woods, I heard it again. I called out. No one answered, but the bushes moved as if someone was pushing through them. Isaac says I was imagining things. It must have been an animal.”
Nothing he’d seen of Sara would make him think she was easily spooked. “An animal wouldn’t sound like a person’s footsteps.”
She looked startled that he was taking it seriously. “No. But if it was a person, he had left by the time my daed and Isaac went out to look.”
“I don’t like it.” His frown deepened. “Someone could have been waiting for you to leave so he could follow you. I think I’d best have a look around outside the schoolhouse, if it’s all right with you.”
“Ya, danki.” She managed a smile. “I hadn’t thought of it, but that would make me feel safer.”
The school bell set up a clamor, shaken by one of the older boys who seemed to enjoy making as much noise as possible. The kinner came running to line up, two by two, and began walking into the schoolhouse. Sara, with a last grateful look at him, followed them inside.
Caleb waited until the school door closed behind Sara. Then he studied the building, considering. He wasn’t what anyone would call a fanciful man, but he’d sensed the fear Sara felt when she talked about her walk home the previous day. The Esch farm wasn’t all that far from the school, but the path was a lonely one, and it would have been dark and isolated under the trees.
He circled the schoolhouse with deliberate steps. For someone to follow Sara, he must have been hiding someplace out of sight, waiting for her to leave. A car parked near the Amish school would have been spotted instantly.
He scanned the ground beneath each of the windows, his skin crawling at the thought of someone peering in at Sara. But there was no sign of disturbance.
A windowless white frame storage shed stood behind the school building. The door was padlocked. No one could have lurked there. He began to feel foolish, prowling around the school this way,