“Did you kill Daniel?” Rachel asked abruptly.
“Kill my husband?” Mary Rose’s face went sickly gray. “Ne! I did not. How can you ask me such a thing? I could never kill another human being. And I could never have killed my husband. I am a sinner like all of us, but not so great a sinner as that.”
“But now that he’s dead, you feel free?”
Mary Rose groaned. “God help me, I do. It is peaceful in this house now with just the baby and us. Is that wrong?” Her eyes glistened with tears. “To be glad sometimes that my husband is dead? Will I go to hell for that?”
“I don’t believe so. I think it proves you’re human.” Rachel lowered her voice. “Mary Rose, are you sure it wasn’t Rosh who shot him?”
Mary Rose shook her head. “He couldn’t. He’s not like that. He’s sweet. There isn’t a mean bone in his body.”
“But did Rosh know that Daniel hit you? That he abused you and your brothers?”
The expression on her face hardened. “Don’t say that. Rosh couldn’t have killed Daniel. He wouldn’t have . . . and . . .”
“And what, Mary Rose?” Rachel closed the distance between them and looked directly into her eyes. “What were you going to say?”
Mary Rose gave a small cry and slumped onto the floor. Sitting with her legs under her, she clapped a hand over her mouth and rocked back and forth. “Ne, ne, it’s not possible. Rosh is not a killer. Not even for me would he . . .” She groaned and then looked up at Rachel, her facial expression suddenly changing. “It couldn’t be Rosh,” she said huskily. “If he’d been the one, they would have found Daniel with an arrow through his heart. Rosh only hunts with a bow, and he never misses what he takes aim at. He wouldn’t have needed two shots. You can ask anyone on the mountain. They’ll tell you that it’s true.”
Rachel nodded, not sure if she was disappointed or relieved. “No one told me that Rosh only hunted with a bow. Was he hunting with a bow the day Daniel died?”
“Of course.”
“But it wasn’t bow season.”
“It wouldn’t matter to him. Up here, on this mountain, the game wardens rarely come. And if they do, they won’t find him. Rosh knows these woods too well.”
“You’re certain that Rosh doesn’t own a gun?”
“Ne. No one in that house owns a gun. Rosh’s father had a brother who was killed in a hunting accident when he was a child. He’s never permitted anyone in his family to touch a firearm.”
Rachel glanced away and then back at Mary Rose. “I’m sorry if my questions upset you. I was only trying to help Moses.” And that hope was looking dimmer and dimmer every day, she thought. “When I found out that Daniel had hidden his first two marriages from the community, I naturally assumed that you . . .” She didn’t finish the sentence. Now she felt bad to have made such assumptions. Relationships were complicated, not just among Englishers but the Amish, too.
“It’s all right,” Mary Rose said. “My Daniel was a troubled man. I only hope that he has found peace.” Slowly, she got up from the floor and looked down at her skirt, stained with water and dirt. “I wanted to help my family, and I fear I’ve made it worse for them. But I can’t be sorry I married Daniel, because my beautiful baby girl came from that marriage bed.” She exhaled softly. “It doesn’t look good for our Moses, does it?”
Rachel shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”
“Pray for him,” Mary Rose said. “Pray for us all.”
“I will,” Rachel assured her.
“And I will pray for you,” Mary Rose replied. “For your marriage, that you will find more happiness in it than I found in mine.”
Going down the narrow steps, Rachel sneezed and blinked away the dust that had gotten into her eyes. She hoped she hadn’t done more harm in coming here. Certainly, Mary Rose had suffered enough. Did she welcome Rosh’s attentions? She’d sounded as if she cared for him, and the defense she’d mounted for him would have convinced any hardened jury.
The beginning of a migraine was throbbing in Rachel’s head. Where was her migraine medicine? Had she refilled her prescription the last time she’d had an incident? She couldn’t remember. But the time to take it would be now, and if she did have any, it was in her medicine cabinet at home. She steeled herself to talk to Alma. Rachel owed her the decency of admitting what she feared most, that Moses had indeed committed the horrendous crime.
Rachel heard the baby fussing before she reached the kitchen. Alma was walking back and forth, patting the little girl’s back and trying to soothe her. Rachel went to the woman and held out her arms. Alma passed her the fretting child and Rachel began to pat her back. “Did you try the oil of cloves?” she asked. “Poor little babe. A toothache is the worst.” Rachel sat down in a kitchen chair and bounced the baby on her knees. The little girl’s mouth and chin were red and chapped from drooling. “Maybe Salome has something that can help her.”
“She told me to put a spoon in the refrigerator and get it cold and then let Baby chew on that. And she gave me a bit of coral to hang around her neck. Not as a fancy, but to help the pain,” Alma explained.
“Ride a pony, ride a pony, ride him to the mill,” Rachel sang to the baby. The teary eyes brightened and a smile stretched across her adorable face. God willing, Evan and I might have a child, Rachel thought. She did want one or two children, but the midwife had been right. She wasn’t getting any younger. She tried
