Accidentally Amish Read online

  Without access to her cell phone, Annie could only guess at how long she had been squatting in the back of the truck between piles of lumber. Ten minutes? Twenty? The driver left behind city streets for a highway. Annie felt the acceleration and merging sensation that forced her body to lean to one side.

  I-25.

  But which direction? Even in daylight Annie used the view of the mountains to the west of Colorado Springs to orient herself. Under a tarp in a vehicle that made multiple turns, she had long ago lost any sense of direction. If they were on the way to Denver, she would know where she was when the vehicle finally stopped. From there she could go anywhere she wanted or needed to go. If they were headed south, getting out of Pueblo would not be as easy. Walsenburg would be impossible. Annie pictured herself on the side of the interstate with her thumb out.

  She still clutched her denim bag to her chest, her arms now wedged in by her own knees. With her phone, she could give herself a hot spot Internet connection and work on her computer anywhere. At the moment, though, not being able to open her laptop meant the new software at the heart of her flight was being tested. If it withstood the hacking attempts Barrett was surely making at that moment, Annie would know it was secure. Barrett would not be happy when he discovered the changes she made a few hours ago—changes that took protecting her creative work into her own hands. How long would it be before she could decipher his efforts and know that her own work had done its job?

  Getting her laptop open under these conditions was physically impossible. If she could get to her cell phone, though, she could get online and discern what Barrett was doing. Inch by inch, she twisted an arm away from her chest and down the side of her torso. She just needed to slip her fingers into her back pocket. She tipped her hip up as far as it would go.

  No luck. Just wasn’t going to happen. All she accomplished was scraping her forearm and making her shoulder sore.

  She was cut off. Completely. Indefinitely. This had never happened to her before. In resignation, Annie leaned her head against the wood stacked on one side. Mentally she created a list of the first steps she would take as soon as the pickup stopped.

  Wherever it stopped.

  Lumber creaked with the sway of the bed. Exhaustion engulfed her.

  The truck stopped. Annie bolted awake—with no notion of how long she’d slept.

  Please, God, don’t let me be in Texas.

  A few seconds later, she heard the truck doors open and slam shut again.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to unload tonight?”

  Annie tried to reconcile the voice with the ones she’d heard earlier and the names they exchanged in the parking lot. Rufus was the deeper voice, Tom the pleasant tenor.

  “No Rufus, it’s ten o’clock. That’s late, even for me, and it’s the middle of the night for you.”

  “Tom, I hate to tie up your truck,” Rufus said. “I’m sure you have other loads to haul tomorrow.”

  “I’ll meet you at my place first thing,” Tom said. “We can go to the job site together. We’ll have more help unloading there. It won’t take long.”

  “I hate to say it,” Rufus said, “but the load is probably safest at your place for the night.”

  “I don’t understand why Karl Kramer doesn’t leave you alone.” Tom’s voice spat irritation. “You do good work for a fair price.”

  “He doesn’t think it’s fair. He thinks I’m underbidding him to force him out of business.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Tell that to Karl Kramer.” Rufus’s rich voice softened.

  “I have half a mind to do just that,” Tom said. “But I guess it won’t be tonight. I’d better get home.”

  “At least let me get you a glass of lemonade before you get on your way.” Rufus perked up again. “It’s been a long, hot day.”

  “I would accept that gladly.”

  “Maybe some of Mamm‘s peach pie?”

  Tom hesitated. “I’d better not. Tricia has me on some newfangled diet.”

  The voices drifted away after that, and Annie couldn’t decipher what they said. They were only going for a glass of lemonade. She did not have much time to figure out where she was.

  Annie fumbled in the dark for some sort of latch to release the gate. She couldn’t find it. Finally, she ran her hand along the edge of the tarp until she found a hook, unfastened it, climbed over the gate, and hooked the tarp back in place. Crouching beside the truck, she took in her surroundings.

  A barn. Definitely not Denver. About forty feet off was a sprawling two-story log home with a dim light emanating from one corner of the first floor. Annie didn’t see any other lights, though she saw the shadows of what looked like a chicken coop and some sort of workshop.

  I am in the boondocks.

  After a quick stretch, she reached into her back pocket for her phone. A touch on the screen brought it to life.

  10:08.

  Strong signal bars.

  I must be close to someplace.

  A horse neighed behind her, making her jump. Annie’s eyes adjusted to the shadows, and the horse nudging the edge of a split-rail fence came into focus.

  At least it’s not a yelping dog giving me away.

  But did she want to stay here? She would have to sit out the night and figure out where here was in the morning. Or she could get back in the truck, uncertain where she would end up. Tom’s place. Where was that?

  The horse neighed again at the same time that Annie heard voices returning.

  “What does Dolly want?” Tom asked.

  “Once she’s in the barn, she’ll settle down,” Rufus answered. “I’ll see you in the morning, Tom. Thanks again for hauling the load.”

  Annie’s decision was made. She had no time to climb back into the bed of the truck. She had to get out of sight—now! She dashed through the shadows to the barn’s door, slightly ajar, and slipped inside.

  Tom got behind the wheel and started the engine. Rufus slapped the side of the truck as it rolled past him.

  “Come on, Dolly,” he said. “Time for bed.”

  Annie glanced around the dark barn. There was not so much as a nightlight. As if in response to her presence, a cow mooed and a second horse snorted. Annie had no idea if a barn had a back door, but she felt her way along the stalls, hoping for one nevertheless. Rufus was sure to notice his animals acting strangely. It was just too dark, though, for her to find an escape. The moon outside was barely a sliver, and the barn’s walls were solidly built, admitting no light. The horse snorted again, and a tail swished against a stall wall.

  The barn door whined slightly as Rufus opened it wide. Annie froze in place, out of options. With one hand, Rufus led Dolly, and with the other he reached into the darkness. A moment later a gas lantern cracked the shadows. Annie could see now that Rufus would have to walk past her to reach an empty stall.

  Dolly pawed the ground with one hoof.

  “Come on, girl,” Rufus urged. “I’m tired. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

  Annie scanned the barn. A buggy. Two buggies, actually. A large black one and a smaller one, more of a cart. They looked just like the pictures in history books illustrating the nineteenth century.

  Her head turned toward Rufus now. Violet-blue eyes gleamed in the lantern’s light, and brown hair fell across his forehead under a hat. Annie blinked at the straw hat then assessed the rest of his clothing—a plain, collarless, long-sleeved dark blue shirt, sturdy black trousers with suspenders, heavy brown work shoes. Her eyes widened. He was Amish!

  Rufus stopped his forward progress and stared at her.

  “I’m sorry, Rufus,” Annie stammered. “I can explain.”

  He stiffened. “How do you know my name? Did Karl Kramer send you here to cause trouble?”

  “No! I don’t even know Karl Kramer.”

  “I don’t want to seem inhospitable, but what are you doing in my barn?”

  “I need a place to stay for the night.” Anni
e put her hands up, palms out. “I’ll get out of your way first thing in the morning.”

  “How did you get here?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  Annie held still under the inspection of his violet-blue eyes. Finally, Rufus led Dolly down the center of the barn and into her stall. Annie held still as man and horse passed. Once the horse was settled, Rufus closed the stall and turned back to Annie.

  He crossed his arms across his chest. “I enjoy a good story.”

  “I didn’t say it was a good story, just long.” Annie’s mind raced with questions of her own. “The truth is, I’m not even sure where I am.”

  “I can help you with that. You’re in the San Luis Valley between the Wet Mountains and the Sangre de Cristos. In the daylight, the view is spectacular.”

  “I’m sure it is.”

  Rufus seemed in no hurry to leave. “You never said how you know my name.”

  “I heard you and Tom talking.” Annie exhaled slowly.

  “How do you know Tom?”

  “I don’t.”

  He pressed his lips together. “Perhaps you can give me the short version of your story.”

  Annie sighed. “I was … in a bit of trouble and had to hide.”

  “And?”

  “I stowed away.”

  “In Tom’s truck?”

  She nodded.

  “What kind of trouble are you in?”

  “I’d rather not say,” Annie answered. “If you want me to leave tonight, I will. Right now.”

  “And go where? How?”

  Annie tilted her chin up. “I can take care of myself. I don’t want to be trouble.”

  They stared at each other for a solid thirty seconds.

  “I have an empty stall. I’ll get you a quilt and some fresh hay,” Rufus finally said. “But I’m not going to leave a gas lantern in the barn with an English who doesn’t know to be careful.”

  Rufus woke before the sun, as he had since childhood. As always, his mother already stirred in the kitchen downstairs. Even when they had first moved from Pennsylvania five years ago and the early weeks in Colorado were erratic and challenging for all of them, the rhythm that formed her forty-seven years hardly wavered. In a few more minutes, his sisters Sophie and Lydia would be up, along with brothers Joel and Jacob.

  He got out of bed and dressed quickly, thinking of the mysterious guest in the barn. She was like Ruth, the same slender build putting skin on fierce determination. Rufus moved into the hallway, cocked his head to listen to the sounds below, and ducked into the small room where his sister used to sleep. On the hook behind the door, he found what he was looking for. He folded a deep purple dress and a white bonnet, then with quiet steps, he descended the stairs and slipped out of the house.

  It was silly to think the English would want the dress. She wanted to leave, did she not? She had promised she would leave. Whatever happened to her the night before surely rattled her, but he was certain she was not the sort to be frightened in the daylight.

  But something had compelled her to trust her welfare to a stranger’s truck. He only wanted her to know she was welcome and it was safe to stay if she wanted to.

  He did not wake her. She slept on the quilt, her arms around her bag, her hair the same color as the hay behind her head. She was an English woman, yet he could not shake the sense that she somehow belonged here in his barn. He watched as her long eyelashes fluttered in resistance to coming wakefulness.

  Rufus laid the folded dress next to her hair spilled on the hay then went back to the house for his breakfast.

  Annie woke abruptly with the distinct sense that someone had been there. She pushed herself upright and immediately checked her bag for her laptop then patted the bulge in her back pocket. Relief. Everything was right where it should be. Except her. She definitely did not belong here. Annie pulled her phone out and touched the screen. The three text messages she ignored the night before were now seven.

  DON’T BE A FOOL, ANNIE.

  YOU’RE THROWING EVERYTHING AWAY.

  THIS IS NOT OVER.

  She deleted the rest unread then checked her e-mail. Four messages, four taps on the DELETE option.

  Then she saw the dress. The deepest, richest purple cotton cloth she had ever beheld, the color of an African violet bloom.

  She was sure it had not been there the night before. Rufus must have brought it. But why? She reached for it and let the smoothness of its texture slide across her hands.

  This time Annie heard the barn door open, and Dolly was nudging the stall door looking for attention. Rufus stood silhouetted in the opening, the rising sun behind his head brushing the sky pink.

  Three

  Annie lurched to her feet, dropping the folded dress and clumsily brushing hay from her clothing.

  Rufus pulled the barn door nearly closed with one arm then moved toward her. “I brought you some breakfast.”

  “That was kind of you.” Annie ran one hand through her hair, dislodging more hay.

  Rufus set a tray on a small stool and backed away.

  “Thank you.” Tentatively, Annie lifted the dish towel that covered the tray and discovered hot buttered biscuits and a bowl of applesauce. “I found the clothes. Thank you for that as well.”

  He smiled. “You’re being polite, but I don’t suppose you can really see yourself wearing my sister’s dress.”

  Annie liked the way his cheeks spread when he smiled—then she could not believe the thought had crossed her mind under the circumstances. He was Amish, after all. “That smells good.” She picked up a biscuit.

  “My mother is a very good cook.”

  Annie took a hefty bite. She had not eaten since breakfast the previous day, so extenuating circumstances or not, she was ravenous. She swallowed two large bites rapidly.

  “Um, about the clothes?” she said.

  Rufus shrugged. “It was just a thought.”

  “And thank you so much.” She just was not sure what the thought was. “I promised I would leave first thing this morning.”

  He nodded. “I began to think about what made you run in the first place.”

  “I can’t imagine what you must think of me.”

  “Maybe you have a good reason to be here. Perhaps it is Gottes wille. God’s will.”

  Annie swallowed more of the moist biscuit and scooped a spoonful of applesauce. God’s will? That thought had not occurred to her.

  “You don’t have to eat so fast,” Rufus said. “I did not tell anyone you are here.”

  Annie forced herself to wait a few seconds before her next bite. “You’ve had your breakfast, I suppose.”

  He nodded.

  “Are you even supposed to be talking to me?”

  “You’re in my barn. I’d say that gives me good reason.”

  “But you didn’t have to feed me.”

  “It’s the Christian thing to do.”

  “Thank you again. I’ll get out of your hair in just a moment. How far will I have to walk to find …”

  “Civilization?”

  His arched brow made Annie look away. “I didn’t mean anything. I’m sorry if I offended you.”

  He shook his head. “It takes much more to offend. We’re about five miles from Westcliffe. I can take you. I’m going anyway.”

  “That’s right. You’re meeting Tom,” Annie said.

  “Whom you don’t know,” Rufus reminded her.

  “I know he’ll be waiting for you to empty his truck.” Annie wiped her mouth on a corner of the dishcloth. “I don’t want to hold up either of you.”

  “It’s no trouble. I’ll get the buggy ready.”

  Both horses neighed softly, and behind Rufus the barn door cracked opened slowly. A small boy shoved against its weight, gradually widening the gap.

  Annie’s eyes widened as well. Her gaze went back and forth between Rufus and the boy. The resemblance was remarkable. His son. Something in her sank.

  Triumphant, the boy brushed th
e dust off his hands and for the first time looked inside the barn. He wore black pants and a white shirt. From under his straw hat, straight-cut blond hair hung over his forehead. He swirled one bare toe in the dirt of the barn floor and stared at Annie.

  “I’m Jacob Beiler,” he said. “Who are you?”

  Rufus chuckled softly. “Good question.”

  “I’m Annie. Annalise, actually. It’s nice to meet you, Jacob.”

  “Do you have a last name?”

  “Friesen,” Annie answered. “I’m Annalise Friesen.”

  “Are you from Pennsylvania?” Jacob asked, moving to stand next to Rufus. “I’m from Pennsylvania, but I do not remember Pennsylvania.”

  “I’m from Colorado,” Annie said. “I’ve never been to Pennsylvania.”

  “Jacob was a baby when we moved here.” Rufus rested a hand on Jacob’s shoulder. “We’ve only been here about five years.”

  “Oh, I see.” Annie supposed a wife would be the next character to enter the scene.

  Rufus smiled again. “You didn’t even know there were Amish people in Colorado, did you?”

  “Well no,” she admitted. “I don’t come this way often.”

  “So why are you here now?” Jacob asked.

  “Don’t be nosy, Jacob,” Rufus said.

  “I’m not nosy,” the boy responded. “Mamm says I’m just curious about everything.”

  “Ya. But don’t be so curious about this. Have you had your breakfast yet?’

  “I forgot,” Jacob said. “The sky called me, and I wanted Dolly to see.”

  Another form split the glare coming through the open barn door. A woman paused to inspect the scene. “Guder mariye.”

  “Mamm, Annalise is here,” Jacob announced.

  “Ya. I see that.” The woman’s floor-length dress was a deep turquoise under an apron that matched the purple garment still folded at Annie’s feet. A white bonnet sat loosely on her head, the ties hanging down her chest. “I’m Franey Beiler. I see you have met two of my sons.”

  They’re brothers! “I’m pleased to meet you as well,” Annie said awkwardly. She stooped quickly and picked up her bag. “Perhaps I should leave now.”