Katy Lee - Amish Country Undercover

Jack felt Grace stiffen under his touch. She was burned, but he knew her response had less to do with his ministrations and more to do with his accusation. He took the next foot and examined it. “This one looks better than the other. You must stomp heavier with your right foot. Ever thought of taking up square dancing?” He tried to lighten the mood, but his attempt at a joke fell flat. He wrapped the foot in the cool cloth and pressed gently. “Sorry, I forgot the Amish don’t dance. But we do sing.”

“We?”

Jack winced at his slip. “Old news. I grew up in a community in Colorado. I left eight years ago, when I was eighteen. End of story.”

“That hardly sounds like the end of that story.”

Jack shrugged and locked his gaze on Grace’s wide eyes. So inquisitive for the Amish, but then, Grace was unique all around. She was a fighter, and that in itself was as unlike the Amish as could be.

Jack recollected his first glimpse of her in the barn, her pitchfork held high. He had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. She might think he was trying to make light of the situation again, and this really was no time to laugh about anything. Not when he was going to have to arrest her.

“You have stolen goods on your property, or at least one of them,” he said, bringing the subject back to her. “You’ve told me your story, but it doesn’t explain how you ended up with a thoroughbred, instead of the standardbred you purchased.”

“Th-thoroughbred?” She swallowed hard as her eyes filled with shock. Or most likely feigned shock. “H-how?” Her voice cracked.

Jack bit back a smile. Even if she was faking it he found the sight of her bewilderment endearing. He could almost believe she was innocent in all this. Almost. “That’s what I’ve been asking you to explain. How did you switch the horse today without the stable hands not noticing?”

Grace reached for the papers with the identification codes. As she silently read them her eyes grew wide in shock. “These are thoroughbred numbers. I can’t believe this. I didn’t even look at the identifications. I’ve just been concerned with showing the bishop I could handle the job.” She glanced toward the door and moved to stand up.

“Whoa,” Jack said, keeping her down with a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll need to clear the woods before you go anywhere tonight.”

“I have to protect that horse until I can get him back to the stables. Do you have any idea what a thoroughbred is worth? They are purebred.”

“I’ve done my research, yes.”

Her face blanched further. “I’ve already lost two horses to the thief. What if...” Her eyes searched his with growing fear. Shaking her head, she said, “I can’t replace them or pay for them.”

“I gathered that,” he said.

“You don’t understand.” Panic made her hands shake as she reached for his, still holding her foot. “I could go to jail.”

Jack nodded. “That’s what I’ve been saying, ya .” He cringed at his unconscious slip into the old language. One night with this woman, and his past was already breaching the borders of his new life. He looked to see if Grace had caught his dialect, but she was facing her father.

Benjamin slumped back against the wall, watching them talk with a look of confusion on his face. “Oh, Daed . What should I do?” she implored him.

Benjamin squinted in response. If he had an answer, he wasn’t sharing it with his daughter.

For the first time since Jack met Grace tonight, he saw tears well up in her eyes. Not even when she was being shot at did she cry. But in this moment, with her father unreachable, he could see how much Grace relied on him.

With Benjamin inaccessible, she was left to take care of everything alone. Left to run the business as perfectly as possible, so the elders wouldn’t take her job away from her.

Signing on with a horse theft ring wouldn’t be the way she would go, not if she wants to show how well she can handle the job.

The thought bounced around in Jack’s head—and disrupted his plan.

The plan was to bring in his horse thief, no matter what.

But what if I’m wrong?

The idea seemed ludicrous. He was never wrong. He always had a way of sizing a person up and knowing if he had his man...or woman, as the case may be. That talent traced all the way back to Colorado, when someone had pinned a crime on him. He’d figured out who was behind the scheme and had called him out—even if he’d had to stand alone to do it.

But that was another story.

After that day, Jack had vowed he would always seek justice, and he wouldn’t stop until he had the right criminal behind bars. Up until this point he hadn’t been wrong when he’d brought a perpetrator in.

Could he be wrong about Grace?

Jack studied her crestfallen face as she searched her father’s confused gaze. Jack wasn’t ready to give in and admit to being wrong about her. Too much evidence was stacked against her. She’d had the stolen horse in her barn...and now in his trailer.

But maybe...

Jack pressed his lips together in annoyance. He typically liked a good joke, but not when the joke was on him. He could imagine his supervisor, Nic Harrington, laughing hysterically if Jack brought in an Amish woman who was completely innocent. Nic would never let him live it down.

Before Jack could slap cuffs on anyone, he would need to be 100 percent sure he had the right person.

But first, he had to catch the gunman in the trees.

Jack winced as he stood up to go. He’d hidden from Grace the fact that the gunman had clipped him. Something that the man would pay dearly for.

“I’ll tell you what you’re going to do,” he responded, when Grace’s question to her father went unanswered. He opened the door. “You’re going to prove your innocence.”

“How will I do that?” she asked, clearly bewildered as she looked up at him from the floor.

“I’m going with you to Autumn Woods.”

Her eyes widened once again. “But what will I say when I’m asked why I’m with an Englisher?”

“You won’t be.” At her confusion, he said, “I’m going to need some of your daed ’s clothes.”

“You’re going to pretend to be Amish? I don’t like this at all.”

“ Ya , me neither. But believe me, this is going to hurt me so much more than it will hurt you.”

Just then the sound of a vehicle starting up outside alerted Jack to the present danger. How? He felt for his keys in his pocket.

“That’s your truck. With my horse!” Grace shouted. She jumped to her feet, then crumpled back to the floor in obvious pain, clearly not going anywhere.

Jack withdrew the keys from his pocket, needing to get outside. But instead of reaching for the doorknob, he stepped forward to help Grace. Instantly, she waved him away, struggling to speak through the pain. Then she forced out the only word he needed to hear.

“Go!”

Grace released the pent-up breath she’d been holding since Jack left, slamming the door behind him. She stretched out her throbbing feet and winced from her burns. Her days of walking barr fees were over much earlier in the season than normal. Autumn was only beginning, and she should have had a few more weeks of warm weather to walk the farm with no shoes.

Two gunshots echoed through the night, reminding her of the danger just outside her front door. Both she and her daed jolted in their places on the floor. Her lack of shoes was the least of her worries when there was a gunman on the loose.