Mary Rose shook her head. “You asked me that before. I don’t know. They went out together, Daniel and Lemuel. I assume they hunted together. Of course—” The widow took a deep breath. “They didn’t come home together.”
Rachel met Mary Aaron’s gaze, then returned her attention to the widow. “I’ve been told that Daniel was going to be part of a drive that morning, with Moses, Lemuel, and Joe Troyer. But Daniel and Joe had words. Did you know anything about that?”
“Ne,” Mary Rose said softly. She looked down at her hands.
“I understand that Daniel was unhappy with your brother Lemuel, that Daniel smacked or hit Lemuel that day.”
Mary Rose raised her head sharply and her face paled. “Ne, I don’t. I mean . . . I didn’t know that.”
“That’s what I was told,” Rachel said.
“By Lemuel?” Mary Rose asked. “Lemuel said that Daniel struck him?”
Rachel shook her head. “Not Lemuel. It was someone else. Maybe he was mistaken. The person who told me.”
“Ya, maybe mistaken,” Mary Rose repeated.
“Can I ask you who came to the house to tell you about Daniel?”
“It was Rosh.” She pressed her lips together in a tight smile. “He’s always so kind to me.” She stood up and went to look down at the sleeping baby. “So young to lose her father,” she said. “Such a shame.”
“It is a tragedy,” Rachel agreed. She took a sip of the coffee. It had cooled, but it was too weak for her taste. Gamely, she took another drink. “So, you don’t know of anyone who would wish your husband harm . . . no one he might have argued with recently?”
Again, Mary Rose shook her head. “Everyone liked Daniel,” she repeated. “Everyone. Just ask the church group. He had no enemies.”
“None at all?” Mary Aaron pressed.
Mary Rose started to shake her head again, but hesitated. “Not unless . . .” She picked up the sleeping baby and cradled her gently. “Maybe, maybe you should talk to our neighbor.” She glanced across at Rachel. “He frightens me, that Englisher. Maybe him you should question.”
“Not much new from the widow,” Mary Aaron said a short time later as she and Rachel drove away from the Studer farm.
“No,” Rachel mused. “Although I didn’t know that Rosh was the one who told her about Daniel.” She glanced at Mary Aaron. “You know, the day Moses was arrested, when Rosh called you to tell you about the police, he said he saw them from the road. The police in the yard. Only he couldn’t possibly have seen them from the road where he said he was.”
Mary Aaron shrugged. “Maybe I misunderstood.” She thought for a moment. “I think it’s interesting that Mary Rose referred to Charles Baker.”
“That makes two people to bring up his name.” Rachel gripped the wheel. “His property borders the road here, doesn’t it?”
“Yup.” Mary Aaron pointed ahead toward a narrow, rutted dirt road that ran toward the mountain. “There’s his driveway.”
Rachel took her foot off the gas and the Jeep slowed. Both of them stared at the driveway. Three strands of wicked-looking barbed wire on top of a rickety fence blocked the way. A boldly lettered sign reading NO TRESPASSING! KEEP OUT! was nailed to one of the fence posts.
“Maybe we should go and see if anyone is home,” Mary Aaron suggested, not sounding entirely sure of herself.
“Right . . .” Rachel pressed down on the brake, rolling to a stop. She stared at the barbed wire. “But I think I’d better talk to Evan first. Make sure it’s safe. From what I’ve heard around town, this Charles Baker is a scary guy. Some kind of doomsday prepper.”
“A what?” Mary Aaron asked. “A preppy?”
Rachel smiled. “A prepper. Sort of a recluse who hides away and thinks the world’s coming to an end. He’s preparing for the end of the world as we know it, preparing to survive.”
“Oh,” her cousin replied with a shrug. “And I just thought he was another crazy Englisher.”
* * *
Back at the inn, Rachel found Ada just leaving for the day. “The cleaning is done as well as the laundry,” the housekeeper assured her. “The air has a nip in it so I made you a nice chicken vegetable soup. There’s plenty to go with it.”
“Danke,” Rachel said, slipping into Deitsch.
Ada pursed her lips in disapproval.
In Rachel’s experience, most big-boned and rotund Amish women that she knew were jolly. Not Ada. She had a good heart and could be depended on, and she had an army of female relatives that she summoned regularly to clean and do laundry for Stone Mill House—helpers that she insisted be paid well and that she ruled with an iron hand. But Ada considered herself a judge of her fellow humankind, and most had been judged and found wanting. She was a treasure with a perpetual scowl and a sharp tongue. And like many older Amish, she considered thank you and please to be fancy English adaptations. The words that came so easily to outsiders were supposed to be expected behavior among the Plain people and not necessary to say aloud.
Rachel had gone over this many times with Ada and didn’t care. “I appreciate everything you do for me,” she continued. “I couldn’t run the B&B without you.”
“Ne, you couldn’t,” Ada agreed as she hung up her work apron. “Not an ounce of sense between your ears. You must be a great disappointment to your mother.”
Evan couldn’t understand how Rachel put up with such an employee. But for a woman who managed the housekeeping and most of the staff without a wrinkle, not to mention one who could cook an endless supply of delicious food, Rachel knew she could bear up under a great deal of criticism. Ada came and went according to her own time clock, she demanded top wages, and she wouldn’t touch a telephone or check out a guest, but Rachel thanked
