A mute, foundling girl hides from her pursuers with the help of a reluctant recluse. The two of them have nothing in common except deep emotional scars. Who is she? How did she end up unconscious and scantily clothed on Evan's isolated property? Why...
Caleb stepped out of my truck. I had no idea what the young man had in mind when he told me he was going to round up his friends. I wasn't going to wait and sped away, bound for the Weiss farm.
Now that I knew where I was headed, the entrance to the farm was easy to spot. A dirt road disappeared into the trees. At the entrance, two metal poles had been staked into the ground. A chain hung between the poles with a sign attached to the midpoint, swinging in the breeze. In big, bold letters, the sign read: NO TRESSPASSING. Violators will be dealt with severely.
"I'll show you the meaning of severe," I mumbled and parked the truck off the main road.
Although time was of the essence, I wasn't dumb enough to unhook the chain and announce my arrival by driving right up to the farmhouse. I grabbed the handgun from my glovebox and stuck it in my waistband. Then I rechecked the shotgun to make sure it was loaded. Stepping over the chain, I jogged up the road.
The uphill grade winded me after about a quarter mile and I stopped to catch my breath. It dawned on me how my land and cabin wasn't far as the crow flies located on the other side of the mountain. It made sense how Titus Weiss would cross over on the old logging road if he was in a hurry and didn't want to go the whole way around. Knowing the terrain also encouraged me. If Sophie and I weren't able to escape by returning to my truck, it would be rough going, but I could lead her over the top.
On the other hand, it discouraged me knowing if the Weiss farm was as isolated as my cabin, we could fight a war, and nobody would ever hear shooting.
I thought about calling the police. Maybe I could try reasoning with Weiss to negotiate Sophie's release. If things went bad, I could hold out until law enforcement showed up. The station was far away. It would take them at least a half hour to respond.
No good. I reconsidered, thinking a move like that could put Sophie in greater danger if they arrived with sirens blaring. I'd have to act alone.
In the distance, I saw wood smoke. Stepping off the road and into the woods for cover, I winced as every step crunched dead leaves underfoot. It took a lot of will power for me to slow down, to slip into deer hunter mode and carefully sneak, minimizing my noise.
Sometime later, I noticed the trees begin to thin as I approached the edge of the woods. Hiding behind a thick tree, I spied out the situation. The rusty windmill squealed as it rotated on its tower, exactly the way Sophie described in her journal. Examining the rig at its base, the turbine seemed to be powering a makeshift generator, not a well as Sophie had written. No electric lines ran onto the property. Unlike most well-kept Amish farms, this one had a dilapidated barn and a large farmhouse with wood trim in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint. What appeared to be a springhouse lay between the house and the barn which led me to believe they had a good supply of water.
If I wasn't so concerned about Sophie, I could admire the self-sufficiency of the farm. With plenty of wood for fuel, Titus and his kin could live a long time there off the grid. Chickens ranged freely in the barnyard among a corral of pigs.
Looking beyond the structures into the trees, it struck me how the place surrounded by forest had no tillable acreage or pasture. What kind of farm was it? With no crops or cows, how did this family earn a living?
A woman dressed in Amish garb, long dress and bonnet exited the house carrying a bucket. She was taller than Sophie and pregnant. I watched as she emptied slop into the pigpen trough. The porkers grunted and came running to gulp down whatever she had fed them.
The woman returned to the house. It didn't appear as if she locked the door. Should I surprise the family by rushing the house with my shotgun raised? As I considered the worthiness of that strategy, I saw a large barn door slide open and repositioned myself behind the tree to get a better angle.
Two men exited, young, certainly not old and heavy as Sophie described. These had to be the two sons. They closed the barn door and walked across the barnyard into the house.
Was everyone now in the house? Could I risk making my move? With only a few hours of daylight remaining, I decided to go for it.
Breaking from the trees, I ran across the clearing to the side of the barn and stopped. Taking a quick glance around the side of the barn toward the house, I detected no sign of alarm. I hadn't been seen.
Just as I stepped around the barn, the large front door slid open. I froze. While whistling a tune, out stepped a heavy, old man that had to be Titus Weiss. He hadn't noticed me. I strode forward and jammed the business end of the shotgun against his spine.
"Stop and raise your hands," I ordered.
He did so and uttered, "Whoa there. Who are you? What's this about?"
"Where is she?"
He must've figured out it would do no good to respond with, "Where is who?" After a pause, he said, "In the house."
I had an idea. If I could take the old man out of play, I'd only have to contend with the two sons. Better odds.
"Walk into the barn," I ordered.
He didn't hesitate. With his hands raised, he led the way back inside. My shotgun remained leveled at his back. I stood to the side and told him to slide the door closed.
He did so without protest.
The air had a familiar Earthy smell. A skylight in the roof provided ample light. Looking around for something to bind the man, I noticed rows of neatly stacked bales wrapped in white plastic. I didn't want to take the time to figure out what I was seeing. "What can I use to tie you up?"
"Can I lower my hands and turn around?"
"No."
He sighed and motioned with his head toward a far corner. "There's a spool of binder twine behind those footlockers."
"Show me," I said, "and don't do anything stupid. At this range my shotgun will blow you in half."
Titus led me without protest. I regarded how easy this was going so far. Too late I recognized it had gone too easy.
As we passed the footlockers, I heard soft footsteps behind me. I turned in time to see an Amish woman swing a manure shovel at my head. The flattened scoop connected with the side of my face and my lights went out.
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Evan lost his advantage. What will happen to him now?
