completed job.”
“I’ll think it over.” Victor took another slug of his coffee. “Stop by tomorrow, and I’ll let you know.”
Joachim nodded. “Sounds gut.”
Leaving Victor on the porch, Joachim returned to the front of the house. He glanced at the outbuildings and barn in the distance. Had the woman left the house? Was she now hiding close at hand, or was he making more out of that which was innocent?
“Sarah?” Victor’s voice sounded as he entered the house.
Joachim climbed into the buggy and flicked the reins. Thankfully, Belle responded with a brisk trot.
Although Joachim kept his eyes on the road, he knew he was not alone. He had seen the tarp—which had been neatly folded and stowed away earlier—strewed over the back of the buggy. Someone was hiding under the thick covering.
He hurried the mare along the driveway and felt a sense of relief as he guided Belle onto the main road.
A sports car raced by, going much too fast. The woman in the passenger’s seat turned to stare at Joachim as if she had never seen an Amish man.
Too soon, the sound of another vehicle filled the air.
Joachim looked back, seeing a red pickup truck turn out of the Thomin driveway. Victor sat behind the wheel. The tires squealed as he gunned the engine.
Would he pass by as the other car had done or stop and demand to know who or what was hiding under the tarp in Joachim’s buggy?
Coming home had been a mistake. More than reconciling with his father, Joachim needed to reconcile with himself as to why he was so eager to help an Englisch woman on the run.
Sarah blinked back tears and tried to calm her heart before it ricocheted out of her chest. She had been a fool to think she could escape. The squeal of tires and the whine of a vehicle approaching the buggy made her realize the full extent of her mistake.
She curled into an even smaller ball and prayed the tarp would keep her hidden. After two months of captivity, she shuddered at the thought of what her punishment might be if Victor found her. Plus, she had put the Amish man in danger, and now he would be subject to Victor’s wrath, as well. The man driving the buggy was innocent of any wrongdoing and had stepped, quite literally, into a perfect storm that was getting worse by the moment.
That she had grabbed the opportunity to run away from Victor still stunned her. An action she never would have taken if not for his abuse earlier this morning. She had planned to escape with Miriam after they were reunited. Her sister would have known what to do and where to go. Miriam had saved Sarah from the fire. She would have saved her from Victor, as well.
Instead, the Amish man with the broad shoulders and understanding gaze had been the catalyst that had Sarah running for her life. Even when peering down at him from the window, she had felt an instant surge of hope when their eyes met, as if he knew she was in danger and had come to her rescue.
The hope evaporated with the deafening roar of the motor vehicle. She fisted her hands and bit down on her lip, willing herself to remain still while internally she wanted to kick her feet and wail like a small child who didn’t want to be punished for some misdeed. Yet she had done nothing wrong.
Victor was the one at fault, a fact she needed to remember. How thoroughly he had filled her mind with lies so that she sometimes confused her innocence with guilt.
“You’re the reason, Sarah, that we have to hide from the police,” Victor had complained on more than one occasion. “If I didn’t need to protect you, I would be free to come and go. Instead, we must hole up and hide out so the corrupt cops won’t find you and sell you into slavery along with your sister.”
He had brainwashed her with his constant badgering about her guilt. Fear, fatigue and her dulled senses, caused by the drugs he forced on her, had added to her confusion.
Thankfully, today, she was able to think rationally enough to seize the opportunity to escape. Pulling in a fortifying breath, she smelled the musty scent of the tarp mixed with the damp cool air of the encroaching storm. If dark clouds hung overhead, hopefully, they weren’t a harbinger of what would happen to her in the next few moments.
Instead of the weather, she focused on the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves on the pavement and tried to ignore the blast of a horn and the revved acceleration of the vehicle that forced the buggy to the side of the road.
“Hold up there, Belle.” The deep voice of the Amish man quieting his horse should have calmed her unease, but knowing Victor was the reason brought another volley of fear to wrap around her spine and underscored the seriousness of her situation as the buggy came to a stop.
God help me, she silently prayed. Help the Amish man. Save both of us from Victor.
“Hey, Amish.” Victor’s voice. “Did you see a woman leave my house?”
“Your mudder?”
“Not my mother.” Victor’s sharp retort reminded Sarah of the caustic tone he often used with her. “A twenty-one-year-old woman wearing jeans and a sweater.”
“She is your schweschder?” The Amish voice was deep and calming.
“What?” Victor didn’t understand.
“Your schweschder,” the Amish man repeated. “Is your sister the woman for whom you are searching?”
“I don’t have a sister,” Victor spat. “I’m looking for the woman who works for us, helping my mother. Did you see anyone?”
“A car passed by, heading toward Petersville. A woman sat in the passenger seat. The man driving had a bald head.”
“What color was the woman’s hair?”
“Blond. This is perhaps the woman you are seeking?”
Victor grumbled. A car door slammed and tires squealed as he drove away. Sarah held her breath and listened to the sound of the engine disappearing into the distance.
“He’s gone.” The Amish man’s voice was low and reassuring. “You can come out now.”
He had known she was under the tarp?
She raised the edge of the covering and stared up at a square jaw, furrowed brow and deep-set eyes filled with question.
“Did he hurt you?” he asked.
She hadn’t expected his concern or the tears that filled her eyes. “Not until today.”
“He will return soon. Plus, a storm is approaching.”
She looked at the darkening sky.
“I will take you someplace safe. Do you have family in the area?”
She glanced at a nearby road sign—Petersville 5 miles, Willkommen 30 miles—and shook her head. “My sister will be here tomorrow or the day after. She’ll make sure I’m safe once she arrives.”
“But today you need lodging,” he said, calmly stating the obvious. “Stay under the tarp in case Victor returns.”
Without further discussion, he turned his gaze to the road and clicked his tongue. The buggy jerked as the horse responded. Sarah found the sound of the horse’s hooves on the pavement and the sway of the carriage mildly soothing.
She didn’t know anything about the Amish man, yet he had helped her escape. She had to trust him, at least for the moment. From what she knew about the Amish, they kept to themselves and had little to do with law enforcement. If so, the man in the buggy might help her elude the crooked cops who had hijacked Miriam’s car and were searching for both sisters even now. He might also help her reconnect with Miriam and take both of them to safety. But where would that be?
Sarah