swallowed. “He’s agreed to look for Caleb.”
“And if he finds him?” Gunther looked at her with suspicion.
There was no use beating about the bush. She met his gaze. “He expects me to come with him and bring Caleb home myself.”
“You cannot travel alone, child.” The older man ran his hand over the length of his gray beard.
Hannah held her breath. He was not saying she shouldn’t go.
“I think this is a matter for the bishop to decide,” he said finally. He took down his hat from the peg by the side door. “Pleasant? Hannah and I will be back shortly.”
Pleasant cast one curious glance at Hannah and then returned to her sweeping. “I’ll be here,” she said.
They found Bishop Troyer at home and Hannah stood quietly by the front door while Gunther explained the situation. The two men discussed the matter in low tones that made it difficult for Hannah to hear. Twice the bishop glanced directly at her, shook his head and returned to the discussion. I should have simply agreed to go with him, she thought and then immediately prayed for forgiveness in even thinking such a thing. But this is my son—my only child and I…
“Hannah? The bishop would like a word with you.”
Her legs felt like wood as she crossed the room and took a seat on the hard straight-backed chair opposite Bishop Troyer. She folded her hands in her lap more to steady them than to appear pious and kept her eyes lowered, lest he see her fear.
“This is indeed an unusual circumstance, Mrs. Goodloe, but at the core of it all is the undeniable fact that a boy—one of our own—is missing. And although you may be right in surmising that he has run away with the circus, we must be sure.”
Hope tugged at her heart and she risked a glance at the kindly face of the bishop. His brow was furrowed but he was not frowning, just concentrating, she realized. He was trying to work out a solution that would serve the purpose of finding Caleb and bringing him home without going too far afield from the traditions that governed their community.
“It seems to me that Mr. Harmon’s offer is a kind and generous one.”
“Oh, he is a good man, Bishop, I’m certain of that,” Hannah blurted.
This time there was no mistaking the frown that crossed both the bishop’s face and her father-in-law’s. Gunther cleared his throat and when she glanced at him, he shook his head as if warning her to remain silent.
“I have given my permission for you to take this journey as long as your father-in-law and your sister-in-law, Pleasant, travel with you.”
Hannah’s heart fell. “But the bakery,” she whispered, knowing there was no one else Gunther would trust with his business.
“I have some time,” the bishop replied, “as well as some experience in managing a business. I have offered to watch over the store while you are away.”
She could hardly believe her ears. The bishop’s offer was beyond anything she might have imagined possible. She glanced at Gunther who had offered the bishop a handshake—a contract in their society as binding as any piece of paper.
“Well, child, we must go. You said the train will leave at seven?”
Hannah nodded, unable to find words to express her joy and relief.
“Then come along. You and Pleasant can see to the packing while the bishop and I go over some of the particulars of managing the business for a few days.”
Levi had spent the rest of the day in his office tending to the mountain of paperwork in preparation for vacating the Florida house for his more modest home in Wisconsin. For the next few weeks he would conduct his business from his private railway car. The Florida staff would see to the closing of his Sarasota residence and the opening of his home in Baraboo. With the exception of Hans who would travel with him, others of his household staff would travel directly to Wisconsin while he and Hans caught up with his company and made the scheduled stops with the circus for performances along the way.
He’d tried not to think about the Goodloe woman. He was fairly certain that she would not—could not—meet his demand that she travel with him to find her son. It had been ridiculous to even suggest such a thing and yet there had been something about the way she had looked at him as he dismissed her and returned to his office that made him uncertain.
The boy had run away and perhaps had inherited his wanderlust from his mother. It was intriguing to think that she was the parent with the adventurous streak. Over the years he had spent living the circus life, never once could he recall a female running away to join the troupe. Of course, Mrs. Goodloe was not exactly planning to join the traveling show. She simply wanted to find her son. But would she defy the counsel of her community’s elders to accomplish that? He doubted it.
And he had no more time to give to the woman’s problem. No doubt the boy had stowed away on the train. No doubt he would be discovered. No doubt that by week’s end he would be back in his own bed. Levi knew that his managers would see to that. Besides, he had other far more serious matters to consider. How was it that when his circus had just completed its most successful season yet in terms of sold-out performances, the numbers did not reflect that? Expenses had risen to be sure but it seemed impossible that the cost of feeding and housing a menagerie of exotic animals and a hundred-plus performers and crew could explain such a disparity in revenue.
“Your car is waiting, sir,” Hans announced with a meaningful glance at the nineteenth-century, gilded French clock that dominated the narrow marble mantel of the fireplace. The manservant was dressed in traveling clothes and holding Levi’s hat as well as his own.
Levi gathered the papers he would need and stuffed them into the valise that Hans had brought to him earlier. “I should change,” he muttered irritably and then wondered why. It was unlikely that there would be anyone at the station to see him off. Levi was a generous supporter of many charitable groups throughout this part of Florida, but he was known to be a reclusive man and most people had learned to respect that—even though they openly commented on the paradox that a man known for his extravagant entertainments and lavish lifestyle should be so protective of his personal privacy.
“Let’s go,” he told Hans as he headed for the door.
The weather had deteriorated. The air was steamy with humidity and the sky had gone from blue to a steel gray that held the promise of rain. He thought of Hannah Goodloe, imagining her walking back to the small Amish community east and north of the train station. For reasons he could not fathom, he felt the desire to make certain she arrived home before the rain began. He should have insisted on having his driver take her back. Surely she was there by now. Surely she had taken precautions for the weather.
At the station his private railway car was attached to the train that regularly made the run from Sarasota to Tampa and then from there to points north. Once the train reached Jonesville on the Florida/Georgia border, his car would be disconnected from the regular train and attached to his circus train. By the time they reached Baraboo, they would have performed in a dozen towns across half a dozen states and it would be June in Wisconsin.
“All aboard!” the conductor bellowed as Levi strode the length of the hissing and belching train to where his car waited. He passed clusters of passengers that had gathered on the platform to say their goodbyes and board the public cars. Not one of them paid the slightest
