suppressed a laugh and looked out the window from the edge of the curtain, not responding.
What did she expect? He was here for answers, not questions.
“Go on,” he instructed, as he dropped the curtain and moved away from the window. He placed his gun in its holster and walked to the basin and water pump in the kitchen. He cranked the handle with ease, then brought the full basin back into the living room. “I said go on.”
But Grace could only stare at him, wondering what he planned to do with the water. Until he knelt in front of her and reached for one of her ankles.
She jerked her leg back. “No. You don’t have to do that.”
“You just keep talking. I can’t be bringing my prisoner in with burned feet. My boss won’t take too kindly to that.” He pressed a cool, wet rag to the scorched sole.
Grace inhaled sharply at the contact. She sighed as relief took over.
Then his words propelled her to finish her side of the story. She couldn’t be taken anywhere, never mind prison. Her father needed her to keep things going at home.
“I go to Autumn Woods every Tuesday and Saturday when they are testing their horses, and sit in the stands. When one fails the trainers’ tests, they look to the bidders and ask if anyone wants to buy it. I raise my hand when I see a horse that would be a good fit for the Amish. Like I said, my father taught me well. I know when to bid and when not to. They give me a ticket for each horse I buy, and I take them to the stables when I am ready to leave. I hand over the tickets, and they tie up my horses behind my buggy. That’s it.”
“What price did you pay for the horse today?”
Grace nodded at the desk across the room. “Twelve hundred. The papers are in the drawer. You’re welcome to look at them. You’ll see I paid a fair price for each one. I didn’t steal those horses.”
Jack reached into a pocket on his pant leg. He took out a sheet of paper and showed her a list of numbers. “These are the identification codes of some of the stolen horses. These are the codes for thoroughbreds, not standardbreds. They are tattooed on the horses’ inner upper lip.”
“I know all about the identifications. A thoroughbred begins with the letter of the year of its foaling, followed by four or five numbers.”
“So you know a look when we go out there will prove one way or the other if any of those are the stolen horses, but I’ll save you the suspense. I already checked.”
“And?”
“And I wouldn’t still be here if you weren’t my thief.”
Jack felt Grace stiffen under his touch. She was burned, but he knew her response had less to do with his ministrations and more to do with his accusation. He took the next foot and examined it. “This one looks better than the other. You must stomp heavier with your right foot. Ever thought of taking up square dancing?” He tried to lighten the mood, but his attempt at a joke fell flat. He wrapped the foot in the cool cloth and pressed gently. “Sorry, I forgot the Amish don’t dance. But we do sing.”
“We?”
Jack winced at his slip. “Old news. I grew up in a community in Colorado. I left eight years ago, when I was eighteen. End of story.”
“That hardly sounds like the end of that story.”
Jack shrugged and locked his gaze on Grace’s wide eyes. So inquisitive for the Amish, but then, Grace was unique all around. She was a fighter, and that in itself was as unlike the Amish as could be.
Jack recollected his first glimpse of her in the barn, her pitchfork held high. He had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. She might think he was trying to make light of the situation again, and this really was no time to laugh about anything. Not when he was going to have to arrest her.
“You have stolen goods on your property, or at least one of them,” he said, bringing the subject back to her. “You’ve told me your story, but it doesn’t explain how you ended up with a thoroughbred, instead of the standardbred you purchased.”
“Th-thoroughbred?” She swallowed hard as her eyes filled with shock. Or most likely feigned shock. “H-how?” Her voice cracked.
Jack bit back a smile. Even if she was faking it he found the sight of her bewilderment endearing. He could almost believe she was innocent in all this. Almost. “That’s what I’ve been asking you to explain. How did you switch the horse today without the stable hands not noticing?”
Grace reached for the papers with the identification codes. As she silently read them her eyes grew wide in shock. “These are thoroughbred numbers. I can’t believe this. I didn’t even look at the identifications. I’ve just been concerned with showing the bishop I could handle the job.” She glanced toward the door and moved to stand up.
“Whoa,” Jack said, keeping her down with a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll need to clear the woods before you go anywhere tonight.”
“I have to protect that horse until I can get him back to the stables. Do you have any idea what a thoroughbred is worth? They are purebred.”
“I’ve done my research, yes.”
Her face blanched further. “I’ve already lost two horses to the thief. What if...” Her eyes searched his with growing fear. Shaking her head, she said, “I can’t replace them or pay for them.”
“I gathered that,” he said.
“You don’t understand.” Panic made her hands shake as she reached for his, still holding her foot. “I could go to jail.”
Jack nodded. “That’s what I’ve been saying, ya.” He cringed at his unconscious slip into the old language. One night with this woman, and his past was already breaching the borders of his new life. He looked to see if Grace had caught his dialect, but she was facing her father.
Benjamin slumped back against the wall, watching them talk with a look of confusion on his face. “Oh, Daed. What should I do?” she implored him.
Benjamin squinted in response. If he had an answer, he wasn’t sharing it with his daughter.
For the first time since Jack met Grace tonight, he saw tears well up in her eyes. Not even when she was being shot at did she cry. But in this moment, with her father unreachable, he could see how much Grace relied on him.
With Benjamin inaccessible, she was left to take care of everything alone. Left to run the business as perfectly as possible, so the elders wouldn’t take her job away from her.
Signing on with a horse theft ring wouldn’t be the way she would go, not if she wants to show how well she can handle the job.
The thought bounced around in Jack’s head—and disrupted his plan.
The plan was to bring in his horse thief, no matter what.
But what
