When Secrets Strike

Julia had been a close friend of Allison’s grandmother, and Allison seemed to feel a special bond with the older woman on that account.

“I think so. Worried about whether or not she should sell the property, but I managed to distract her.” Sarah’s thoughts flickered to Julia’s quilts, which might or might not be suitable for display.

“Everybody’s worried about the fire, as far as I can tell.” Allison glanced at the two customers who were browsing through the racks of fabric in the back of the store, and lowered her voice. “I didn’t quite see what Nick and his dad were so upset about. Apparently the barn was empty.”

“That’s just it.” Probably Allison, having spent all her life in the city until she’d come to Laurel Ridge in the spring, had little idea how country people felt about barn burnings. “There was nothing in that barn that could have started an accidental fire.”

“You mean they think it was deliberate?” Allison shivered a little. “That’s frightening.” She had had a close encounter with a fire herself not so long ago. She wouldn’t have forgotten.

Sarah nodded. “There’s nothing worse in a farming community than the idea that there’s a firebug loose. It happened once when I was a child, and I remember it so well—Daad staying up at night, keeping watch, never knowing what might happen, afraid to leave the animals in the barn.” It chilled her just to think of it.

“Still, there’s no reason to believe this is more than an isolated incident.”

Allison was obviously trying to look on the bright side, and she was probably right. They might well discover some innocent reason for the fire.

Sarah began to speak, but the words froze in her throat. From the firehouse down the street came an ominous sound as the siren began to wail its alarm. There was another fire.

CHAPTER TWO (#ua511355f-be16-5f59-a945-f6afa3f11b1c)

AARON WALKED ALONG the edge of the cornfield between his parents’ farm and the Bitler place. Or maybe trudged was a better word, he thought wryly. Fighting two fires in one day in addition to his usual work had taken something out of him.

He brushed his hand along the stalks of corn, registering the texture of the leaves. Too dry. If they didn’t get a decent rain soon, they wouldn’t have the winter feed they needed. He didn’t want to think about the temptation the dry fields might be to a firebug.

But he had to think about it. Isolated farms couldn’t rely on the fire department to get there quickly. He’d talk to Eli Bitler first off. They could set up a plan for looking out for each other’s property. As word of the fires spread through the county, other neighbors were most likely doing the same thing.

Aaron had nearly reached the property line when he saw Eli striding toward the house from the barn. Eli was younger than Aaron’s daad—probably not yet fifty, hale and vigorous. He wasn’t one to stand back and see a problem without wanting to do something about it.

“Aaron.” Eli raised a hand in greeting, but his usual quick smile was missing. “You boys had a long day today, with the fire at the Everly place this morning and another one at Morrison’s this afternoon. How bad was it?”

Aaron shrugged. “Just a small equipment shed at Tom Morrison’s, and he was able to get his mower and garden tractor out before we arrived with the truck. Good thing, too.” Tension seized the back of his neck at the memory. “Our equipment started giving us trouble right away. We were lucky to keep the fire under control.”

Eli studied his face for a long moment. “That’s bad news. All the will in the world won’t help fight a fire if your gear isn’t in shape.”

“It’s old, that’s all.” They turned, walking toward the farmhouse together. “We can’t afford new, a small volunteer company like ours. The chief nearly had to call in the surrounding fire companies for help today.”

The worry rode Aaron like a weight on his shoulders. The surrounding townships had small volunteer companies like theirs. Two fires in one day would be a strain on any of them.

“You want to come in?” Eli jerked his head toward the kitchen door. “Hannah’s got some coffee in the pot and a fresh-baked peach pie.”

Aaron’s smile flickered. It would be a rare day when Hannah Bitler didn’t have something baked fresh, the way those boys of theirs ate. “Denke, but it may be best we talk out here where the others won’t hear. The fact is, there was no gut reason for either of those fires to start.”

Eli nodded slowly. “I figured that was in your mind. It’s certain sure been in mine since our Sarah came back with the story of the barn on the Everly property burning. No reason, and two fires so close together in one day has to mean someone started them, I’d think.”

Eli looked toward his own barn. His oldest boy, Jonah Michael, usually known as Jonny, seemed to be teaching little Noah how to drive the pony cart, while Thomas sat on the paddock fence to watch.

“I remember the last time it happened. Years ago, it was, but they never caught the guy.” Aaron had been just a boy then, but he’d taken turns with Daad standing watch, starting at every sound in the dark.

“There’s more able-bodied men around here now, at least,” Eli said, sounding determined to put the best face possible on bad news. “You and your brother and your daad, plus me and the Whitings.” He nodded toward the next farm beyond the Bitler place, where Nick Whiting lived with his parents and Nick’s small son. “I’m thinking we’ll leave the dogs loose at night from now on. They’ll give an alarm fast enough.”

“If they’re not off chasing a deer.” Eli must have more faith in his dogs than Aaron did. “Jonah and I will take turns walking around a couple of times a night. Maybe get Nick Whiting to switch off with us.”

“You can count on me, too.” Eli glanced down the lane at the sound of buggy wheels. “Here comes Sarah. If we’re not careful, we’ll have her wanting to join us.” His eyes twinkled. “I hear you scolded her for getting too close to that burning barn this morning.”

Aaron grinned. “She put me in my place pretty fast. Sarah might be quiet, but she’s got a mind of her own.”

The buggy drew up next to the porch, and Sarah’s gaze went from him to her father. “What are the two of you conspiring about?” she asked. “You look like you’re sharing secrets.”

“Just talking about the fires,” Eli said quickly. “Your brother will put the mare away for you,” he added as Thomas came running up, obviously eager to be trusted with the job.

“Right. Denke, Thomas.” She hopped down lightly before anyone could move to offer her a hand, making Aaron smile again.

Sarah was still as slim and active as she’d been when she was a young girl. He had a sudden vivid image of her chasing after him in some game they’d been playing, her braids coming loose and trailing out behind her. Her fair hair was smoothed back from a center part now, fastened in a thick bun under her snowy-white prayer covering. No one outside family or a spouse would see it loose again, and he found himself wondering how it would look.

“What are folks in town saying about the fires?” Eli caught his daughter’s hand when she would have gone past them to the porch.

Sarah’s normally serene expression sobered. “Same as you two have been saying, I’d guess. That there’s a firebug loose. That maybe it’s the same person it was the last time, since the police never caught him. Poor Mac is looking harassed already, I think. Nick told us he’s reported it to the regional fire marshal. Why should anyone blame Mac for the fact that they didn’t catch the arsonist before? He was just a boy then.”

“Some folks are only happy when they have someone to blame for their troubles,” Eli said.

Aaron’s thoughts had headed a different direction. “It doesn’t seem likely it’s the same person. That must have been—what? Close to twenty years ago.”

Sarah shrugged. “I know, but that’s what some people are saying.” She focused on him, her blue eyes filled with concern. “Are you all right? I heard you had trouble with your gear today.”

Her caring touched him. “Nothing serious.” Though he had to admit it could have been, if he’d been any closer to the fire when his mask failed. “Some of our equipment is nearly as old as I am.”

“That’s terrible. Didn’t we make enough at the spring sale to buy new equipment?”

The community spring festival in town raised money each year for the volunteer fire company, and Sarah, one of the hardest workers, would feel responsible.

“Ja, well, the money was put to gut use, but the trouble is that there’s too much needs replacing. We’ll have to rely on the neighboring companies for help in future emergencies, that’s certain sure.”

“You shouldn’t have to take risks.” Sarah’s smooth forehead wrinkled. “We need to do something.”

“There’s nothing you can do.”

“There’s always something.” Her sweet oval face was troubled. “There must be.”

Sarah had a big heart—he’d always known that. She was a gut friend. He’d never been able to understand why she and Mary Ann hadn’t been closer. They’d been neighborly, but never really friendly.

Still, women were unaccountable. As usual, thinking of his late wife made him feel vaguely uncomfortable and more than a little guilty. Logic said he hadn’t failed Mary Ann, but his conscience seemed to declare otherwise.

Seeing that Sarah still looked troubled, he managed a smile. “Don’t worry so much. We won’t take any needless risks. We all look out for one another.”

His words did bring a responding smile to her face. “Don’t bother telling me you’re cautious. You all get so excited when the siren goes off that you don’t think about a thing except getting to the fire, and you might as well admit it.”

“Maybe there’s a little truth to that,” he said, relieved to see her expression relax. Sarah knew him too well for him to deny it. When you’d been friends with someone since childhood, there wasn’t much you didn’t know about the person.

That was probably why he enjoyed being around Sarah. Any other single Amish woman would be wondering why he hadn’t remarried before this, with his wife gone for over two years. Maybe even flirting a little. And since he couldn’t look at anybody in a romantic way since Mary Ann’s death, they always made him uncomfortable.