needed the strength within the Amish community, the salvation in Jesus Christ that the bishop preached and the productive life of a man of faith who worked with his hands. He needed family, a cornerstone of any Amish person’s life.
Her nose touched the glass in her efforts to see inside. A face suddenly appeared in the window. It was distorted by the cracks in the glass, but it appeared to be her bruder. A moment later, the face disappeared.
She jumped from the crate and headed toward the corner of the cabin. Now that he had seen her, he had to come out and explain himself and return with her, stopping whatever this clandestine meeting was all about. Yet despite the warm summer air, a chill crept up her arms as she rounded the corner. The sour scent of the humidity in the woods tingled her nose and seeped into her brain, beginning the light pulse of a coming headache. Was she relieved that she had found him? Or was she apprehensive of who he was with and what he was doing? The emotions warred within her.
A man dressed in plain clothing, homespun pants and a light blue shirt stepped out through the door.
“Timothy!” But the wild look in his eyes stopped her from speaking further.
And then she saw it. A gun was pressed into his back. But the man with the weapon didn’t step out.
“Katie! Run! Go!”
She jerked backward, an instinctual reaction to the presence of the deadly weapon. Panic gripped her throat, her mouth suddenly chalky. What should she do? Could she help him? But there was no way she was going to advance any closer to the door and that gun.
“Dabber schpring! Run quickly!”
She stepped backward, her gaze trained on the weapon. With another step, she saw her bruder pulled back inside the cabin. The gun reemerged, and she turned to run.
She was five steps away when the weapon fired, an explosive sound that hurt her ears. She pushed herself farther and faster, but her legs were burning. It seemed to take too many steps to reach the tree line. Voices sounded behind her, louder and harsher, as if they were exiting the cabin. She hiked up her skirt, desperately grabbing at the fabric with her sweaty palms, and crouched low as she continued to run.
Another explosion fired nearby, and a sapling splintered to her right. How close was the shooter? Was he following her? She glanced back over her shoulder to check his position, and her foot caught on something. Air rushed past her as she fell face-first into the leaves and dirt.
The ground slammed into her midsection, forcing the air out of her lungs. As she fought to get a breath, a hand clamped onto her shoulder. She struggled to turn over, but all she could see out of her peripheral vision was what she assumed was the man’s other hand. He held a gun.
That was it, then. This would be the end.
* * *
“Are you all right?” Adam Troyer kept his voice to a low whisper. He glanced back to check the position of the men who had been in the cabin. The one with the weapon continued to advance. Whoever this Amish woman was, he needed to get her out of there. “Can you breathe? Can you run?”
Her answer was a scream.
Oh, that wasn’t good. “Shh, shh. I’m not with them. I’m law enforcement.” Another shot struck a nearby tree. “Come with me if you want to live.”
The screaming stopped as he grasped her upper arm and pulled her to her feet. She grimaced, but if they didn’t hurry, they might both be killed. He broke into a jog, the woman running alongside him, trying to brush dirt and leaves off her skirt with one hand and holding on to her kapp with the other.
“Danki.” The thank-you puffed out with a breath as they hurried further into the woods.
He nodded his acknowledgment. She certainly sounded like a real Amish woman, but was she? It could be that she practiced the accent. Was she an innocent bystander? Or was she in league with whoever was in the cabin, just dressed to look Amish so as not to attract attention?
The sounds of their pursuer crashing through the underbrush grew louder. They would never be able to get away, especially with this woman encumbered by her full skirt and kapp. It was time for concealment.
Adam pulled her toward a thick stand of poplar trees. “I called nine-one-one. It’s the fastest way to get reinforcements here. Right now we need to hide.”
She nodded and stepped in front of him as quickly as she could, a look of panic mingled with determination etching fine lines around her eyes. Scanning the forest growth around them, she whispered without looking back, “We go up.”
It was brilliant. From a tree, not only would they be hidden but he could survey the area and, hopefully, find the man who had chased them from the cabin. A few more steps took them to the base of a thick tree with low-hanging branches.
“Here?”
Katie nodded. “Not for long, I pray.”
But by the time he had holstered his weapon and cupped his hands together to provide a step up for her, she had gathered her skirt tightly around her legs with one hand. With the other, she grasped an upper branch. In a few seconds, she was several feet up the tree. Apparently climbing trees was not a new activity for her.
Adam followed behind until they came to a spot where two thick branches ran parallel and provided a sort of bench for them. He settled her in the seat and then lowered himself beside her. Branches full with leaves fanned around them, so thick that he had to pull a branch aside to be able to peek out. This would do well.
He couldn’t see anyone below, but that didn’t mean it was safe to emerge from their hiding spot. He turned to the Amish woman, her face startlingly close to his in their tight surroundings. “I’m Adam Troyer, by the way.” He kept his voice to a whisper. “Immigration and Customs Enforcement special agent.”
She turned to him. “Katie Schwartz.” Her dark blue eyes flashed in the dimness of their cover as she pierced him with her gaze. “What are you doing here?”
Wait a minute. He was the one who should ask the questions. “Surveillance.” He would answer that one, though, hopefully to build rapport, and then fire his questions at her. From his position earlier, he had seen her approach the cabin, acting suspicious and watching over her shoulder. Yes, she looked Amish. Even sounded Amish. But he had no way of knowing, at this point in time, that she actually was Amish. What if she was part of the criminal ring he was seeking, perhaps sent out for an errand, innocent-looking in her Amish garb, and now she was returning? He would stick close to her until he knew for sure who she was. In the meantime, though, there was no harm in her knowing he was ICE. He would not tell her any more.
“I heard a man in the cabin tell you to run away. Why are you here?” He peeked through the leaves again. Still no one had approached the tree. This was not the time or place to question her, but he could gather a little bit of information. If she was one of them, then she would be arrested. If she wasn’t, then perhaps she had some insider information that would be helpful to the investigation. So much about her seemed suspicious and made the hair on the back of his hands raise up.
“I am looking for mein bruder.” She scrunched her eyes and rubbed at them, a tear squeezing out and running down her cheek. She sniffed, a sound too loud for their concealed location.
A crashing sounded somewhere
