“What are you saying to her?” Sharpe asked. “Speak English.”
“But they’ve upset Moses,” Alma said, ignoring the detective, “and Lemuel’s gone to get his hunting gun to run them off.”
Mary Rose gave a little cry of alarm and clapped a hand over her mouth.
Rachel looked at Mary Aaron, who’d heard every word, and then back at Alma. “You have to stop Lemuel,” Rachel said. “If Lemuel comes out here with a gun, they’ll either shoot him or arrest him or both. You, too, Mary Rose. If you care for your brother’s safety, you have to keep him inside.”
Alma hesitated for a few seconds and then turned and trotted toward the house. Mary Rose looked from Moses to her mother’s retreating back.
“Go with her,” Rachel urged in Deitsch. “And don’t let Lemuel out of that house with a gun.”
“Where’s she going?” the detective demanded as Mary Rose dashed away. “What did you say to her?”
“I think her baby needs her,” Mary Aaron told him in English.
Rachel glanced at her and Mary Aaron shrugged.
Moses attacked another section of log with the ax and chunks flew. From the body language of the policemen, Rachel was afraid the situation was about to go from bad to worse.
“Should I go with Alma and Mary Rose?” Mary Aaron asked, again switching to the Amish dialect.
“Ne,” Rachel said. “Stay here with me. I need you here.” Adding Mary Aaron to the mix of agitated women and a frightened boy with a gun was more than she wanted to risk. “Can we all just take a breath, here?” Rachel then said in English.
“What did you say to them?” Sharpe asked Rachel a second time. When she didn’t respond, he nodded toward Moses. “Tell him to put that ax down and answer my questions. Either that, or I’m going to place him in cuffs and he’s going to jail for interfering in the investigation of a murder.”
Rachel stared at the detective. “So you’re definitely calling Daniel’s death a murder? What—”
“We are,” Sharpe interrupted. “And Mr. Studer isn’t helping himself by this bizarre behavior. He acts as if he doesn’t hear us, but he does.”
“Please,” Rachel said, holding up one hand to Sharpe. “Give me a minute.” She took a few steps toward Moses. “Could you put the ax down, Moses?” she said quietly in Deitsch. “You’re making the Englishers nervous.”
He paused and lowered the ax. “Why? I don’t want to talk. I’m cutting wood for the stove.” His expression was strained, his lips taut and pale. He seemed totally baffled by the response by the police.
“Moses.” She slowly moved closer to him and purposely put herself between him and the police. “You have to speak to them or they’ll think you had something to do with Daniel’s death. Your mother is upset. You don’t want her upset, do you?”
“It’s them,” Moses replied tersely, not making eye contact with her. “They should go. We don’t need them Englishers here on Fader’s farm.”
“But, Moses, it’s the law,” Rachel explained. “We don’t get to choose. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“I’m not afraid. Daniel is dead.” Moses suddenly swung the ax and sank it into the chopping block, no doubt startling the police.
Rachel glanced over her shoulder. Sure enough, Lincoln had released the leather strap from his sidearm. “It’s okay,” she called to the police. “Just give me a sec.” She turned back to Moses. “They just want to talk to you,” she told him in English.
He switched to English. “No need for talk. Daniel is dead.” He looked at the detective. “I killed him.”
She was so startled that it took her a moment to react. She threw up both hands. “Ne,” she said, speaking to the young man urgently in Deitsch. “Don’t say such a thing. The police think Daniel was murdered. You didn’t murder him. You aren’t a murderer.”
“Yes,” Moses announced in accented English. “I am the one who shot Daniel.”
Rachel’s breath caught in her throat. “Moses, listen to me. Don’t say anything more.” She glanced back at Sharpe. “Something’s wrong here. He doesn’t understand.”
“I understand your English,” Moses said flatly. “I am the one you want.” He raised his hands in surrender. “I am Daniel’s killer.”
“Read him his rights,” Sharpe ordered the male trooper. “Put the cuffs on him.” And then turning back to Moses, he said, “Moses Studer, you’re under arrest for the murder of Daniel Fisher. The officer will read you your rights.”
* * *
Evan found Rachel in the garage-turned-barn, a solid fieldstone structure now occupied by four goats. She hadn’t wanted goats, hadn’t planned to raise the animals. But she had acquired them in a crazy turn of events and had since become fond of them. She’d promised herself that she’d either build a real garage or put the goats in the old barn by the millpond, but there never seemed time to make it happen. Thus, winter was fast approaching, and her vehicle was parked in an open shed.
“Rachel.”
By Evan’s tone, she knew that he’d learned about what had happened at the Studer farm and about her part in it. He also knew where she hadn’t gone today.
It was almost dark, and she’d just slipped outside to make certain there was water and enough bedding for the goats because the weather forecast was calling for low temperatures that night. She was forking hay into the manger when he entered the garage/barn. She kept at her task. It was easier to concentrate on feeding the animals than start an explanation of why she’d been forced to skip another wedding gown fitting.
“Rachel, could you put down the pitchfork and talk to me?” he asked.
She glanced back at him over her shoulder. “Would you scoop out the goat chow? Three scoops. Level scoops.”
Evan had changed out of his uniform and seemed much more approachable in his jeans, Timberlands, and old winter jacket. He wasn’t wearing a hat. Evan hated hats, and she always had to remind him to put
