the children enough to make up for what she had done?
Brushing the thought aside, she crossed the room to the kitchen. “Susan, I’m going to bring the clothes in. Call me if you or Danny need anything, ja?”
“Ja, Memmi. I will.”
Picking up the empty basket from the back porch, Ellie started with Johnny’s shirts, dropping the clothespins into the basket as she folded each shirt. When she reached for Susan’s blue dress, the stranger stepped up next to her and took the dress from the line, handing it to her as he dropped the pins with the others.
“I thought I’d check on your little girl before I left.”
Ellie froze with the dress in her hands. What was he doing? Asking for Dat was one thing, but to speak to her in this way?
“She...she’s fine. She’s just fine.” Ellie concentrated on folding the dress and took Johnny’s trousers from the Englischer as he dropped more clothespins into the basket. The sleeve of his jacket was gray, with threads of yellow that matched his necktie and the handkerchief in his breast pocket. No one dressed that fancy, not even the Englischers in town. Who was he?
“I found your Dat in the barn, just like you said. The horse will be perfect for me. John said you’ve driven him quite a bit.”
“Ja, I take him when I need to run errands or go visiting.” Why didn’t he just go? What if Mam saw an Englischer talking with her?
“My name is Bram. Bram Lapp. And you’re Ellie, right?”
Ellie glanced at his face. Ja, that grin was there, making a dimple show on his cheek. Ach, what a mess! How could she get him to leave and still be polite?
“Ja, that’s right.” Her cheeks were flaming hot under his gaze.
“I’m staying with Matthew and Annie Beachey until I find a farm to buy. Annie’s my sister.”
Ellie stared at him. “Your sister? But you’re...” How could he be Annie’s brother? She wasn’t Englisch.
His grin widened. “Has anyone ever told you how beautiful your eyes are?” He turned away and stepped to the next line to start on the many diapers.
Ellie couldn’t pull her eyes away from him, her cheeks burning. How forward could one man be? He ignored her as he pulled the pins off the line and bunched the diapers in his hand. When the line was empty, he dropped the diapers into the basket on top of the clothes.
“I’m glad your little girl is all right.” He picked up the basket and started toward the house. He wouldn’t just walk inside, would he?
“I can take that.” Ellie hurried after him and reached for the basket. He let her grasp the sides as he paused at the porch steps, but he held on until she looked up at him.
“Will I see you again? I’ll be around, you know.” His dimple deepened, and she pulled the basket out of his hands. Didn’t he understand how rude and forward he was being?
“Denki for carrying the basket, but ne, I don’t think you’ll be seeing me again.”
She left him and went into the house, closing the solid wood door behind her, shutting him out. Leaning her back against the door, Ellie listened. Would he be so bold as to follow her onto the porch?
Setting the basket on the floor, she stepped to the sink and looked out the window. There he was, walking past the barn toward the road, his hat tilted on the back of his head and his hands in his pockets.
Annie Beachey’s brother? Ellie squinted her eyes. Ja, perhaps if he wore Plain clothes and a straw hat instead of the gray felt one with the yellow band...
Ne. She shook her head and turned to pull a loaf out of the bread box. He was just too Englisch. For sure, the clothes made him Englisch on the outside, but no Amishman would be so bold with a woman! He was Englisch through and through.
Ellie looked up from her task of slicing the bread. She could still see him on the road. He had taken off his jacket and slung it over one shoulder, and as she watched, he did a little skip and kicked at a rock on the road, sending it bouncing along in front of him. He ran up to it and kicked it again, sending it into the ditch. Laughter bubbled up in her throat, and she leaned toward the window to keep him in view as he hunted for the rock in the tall grass at the side of the road. And then he was gone.
Straightening the bread on the cutting board, she cut two more slices for Susan and Danny before she realized she was still smiling. Ach, what was it about this Englischer? What if he had seen her laughing at him?
She shook her head, putting a frown on her face. Ne, that wouldn’t do at all. Englischers and Amish just didn’t mix, especially strange, fancy men. No good Amish woman would let him near her and her family.
Chapter Two
Bram kept to the shady south side of the gravel road, letting his pace settle into a steady walk that would eat up the four miles to Matthew’s place. It was pure luck his brother-in-law knew about that horse for sale. A week of walking was enough for him. Selling his Studebaker had been a hard sacrifice to make, but it had been a gift from Kavanaugh.
Too risky to keep.
Everything was risky since that night on Chicago’s West Side when Elwood Peters had told him his cover was blown.
Bram loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar to give himself some air. It had been just this hot that April night, but Bram had gone cold with Peters’s terse “You’ve been made.”
How had Kavanaugh known he was the source for the feds? He had been with the gangster for nearly all of the twelve years he had been in Chicago, from the time he had hit the streets with hayseed still stuck in his hair. Kavanaugh had taken him in, taught him some street smarts, shown him the ropes during Prohibition. Man, what a green kid he had been back then—but Kavanaugh liked him, said he had promise. Sure, some of the other guys had been jealous of him, but nobody messed with one of Kavanaugh’s boys.
But it was Elwood Peters who had made a man of him. The Prohibition agent had seen his potential and recruited him to be an informant.
Bram shook his head. No, Peters had done more than just recruit him. He had saved his life. Before Peters came along, Bram had been on the same track as the rest of Kavanaugh’s boys—just waiting for his chance to take the boss down. Even though he had seen what happened to the guy who made his move and failed, Bram didn’t care. What did he have to live for, anyway?
Then he had run into Peters. Over the past ten years, Peters’s job had changed from Prohibition agent, to Treasury agent, to the Federal Bureau, and he had taken Bram with him as his eyes on the street. It had worked out well for both of them.
Bram had shared everything with the older man—everything except his past and his real name. Peters knew him as Dutch, the name Kavanaugh had dubbed him with the first time they met. Bram had added a last name—Sutter—and from then on, Bram Lapp had disappeared into the hazy mist of fading years.
Until now.
Peters was sure Kavanaugh had moved his operation to northern Indiana after Bram’s information had led to the breakup of his gang in Chicago, but he needed to know where the
