Hearse and Buggy
He came back—but not for long
“Claire, I’m sorry. I hate to run out like this, but I’ve got to go,” Jakob said.
She crossed to him, stopping his forward progress with a hand on his arm. “He came back again?”
Regret turned to confusion. “Who?”
She pulled her hand back.
“
Who
?” he repeated.
“W-Walter.” She heard the stammer in her voice. “Walter Snow.”
“Then yeah, you could say he came back.”
“What happened?” Claire asked.
He trotted toward the door, stopping with his hand firmly wrapped around the knob. “It looks as if someone has settled the score with him once and for all.”
L
AURA
B
RADFORD
THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
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HEARSE AND BUGGY
A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author
PUBLISHING HISTORY
Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / June 2012
Copyright © 2012 by Laura Bradford.
Cover illustration by Mary Ann Lasher.
Cover design by Sarah Oberrender.
Interior text design by Laura K. Corless.
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ISBN: 978-1-101-58086-8
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If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”
ALWAYS LEARNING
PEARSON
For my family, for making my life extraordinary.
I loved every moment of writing this book. The characters and the town of Heavenly, Pennsylvania, sprang to life before my eyes, making each day I spent at the computer a true joy.
That said, I want to thank my fabulous editor, Emily Rapoport, and my agent, Jessica Faust, for allowing me the opportunity to spend my days in such a wonderful place—creating this world I hope you’ll love as much as I do.
Chapter 1
C
laire Weatherly looked around the empty stockroom, kneading the small of her back with stiff, tired fingers. Three hours earlier she’d been almost convinced it would take an act of God to clear away the last of the handmade furniture left behind by the previous tenant. Bed frames, tables, chairs, chests, and cribs had claimed the much-needed space for weeks, a glaring reminder of one more task that needed to be completed before Heavenly Treasures would finally feel as if it were truly there to stay.
Because it was.
And so was she.
Sure, there had been times—like three hours ago—when she’d been inclined to give in to the doubts and simply roll over, convinced her fresh start was nothing more than idle daydreams with a hefty dose of delirium thrown in for good measure. Yet she’d pressed on, driven by the same little voice that had prodded her to make some of the best decisions
she’d made in years. Including taking a gamble and leaving her ex-husband’s harried world in favor of one where she actually fit.
“Miss Weatherly?”
At the sound of Esther King’s timid voice, Claire turned and drank in the sight of the young woman in her plain royal-blue dress and white apron.
“Oh, Esther, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!”
A hint of crimson rose in the nineteen-year-old’s face. “Sore eyes?”
“Sore eyes, sore arms, sore legs … Take your pick.”
Esther’s soft brown eyebrows rose toward the white head cap secured to her matching brown hair. “Are you sick, Miss Weatherly?”
“No, no—I’m fine. A little tired, perhaps, but fine.” She waved her hand around the room. “So? What do you think?”
Esther’s gaze followed suit, a shy smile inching her full lips upward. “You did nice. You cleared everything from the room just as you said you would.”
Indeed, she had, the last of the items—a beautiful chest—being picked up by one Eli Miller, not more than ten minutes earlier.
She met Esther’s eye and held it a beat. “Eli was sorry he missed you.”
“Eli?” Esther’s hand flew to the cape of her dress and smoothed its way down to her apron. “Eli was here? In the shop?”
Claire knew she shouldn’t tease, but she couldn’t help it. Esther needed a little spark in her life. “He was. And even though he’s rather distracted by everything going on with his sister, he asked about you.”
All color drained from the young woman’s face. “He did?”
“He did.”
Esther took a step back and flopped against the wall. “This is when I miss my cousin Hannah’s world. If I had a cell phone as she does, you could have called me, and I would have come sooner.”
With a few easy strides, Claire claimed a section of wall to the left of her new friend. “Do you miss it?”
“Miss what?” Esther asked.
“Living the way you did, the way the English do every day.”
Esther closed her eyes, her audible inhale filling the space between them. “Sometimes. I mean, I love Mamm and Dat, and I’m glad I made the decision to come back after Rumspringa and be baptized, but … sometimes … I wish I could do things Hannah can do.”
“Like what?”
“Like be able to tell Eli I like him, rather than wait for him to notice me.”
“Then you’re not worried about his temper?” The second the words were out, Claire wished she could recall them. Eli Miller was a nice guy. He’d been nothing but polite the few times she’d run across him coming and going from Shoo Fly Bake Shoppe next door. Several times a day, he showed up at the Amish bakery to see if his sister, Ruth, needed anything, and when she did, he attended to whatever it was in quick fashion. That, and the fact that Esther thought so kindly of him, should be enough to drown out any whisperings Claire had heard about his short-fused temper.
“His temper is not good, but he does not deserve so much shunning. What that man did was wrong.”
Claire reached out, rested a calming hand on Esther’s arm. “I know. And you’re right. I can’t imagine how a man
like Mr. Snow could hurt your community in the way he did. Pocketing money that rightfully belonged to your family, and to people like Eli and his brother, was wrong. He should have been thrown in jail.”
And it was true. Walter Snow, the previous tenant, had lured Amish furniture makers to his shop, offered their work on consignment, and then stiffed them of money that was rightfully theirs for months before the Amish had grown wise to his thieving ways. Unfortunately, Eli had taken a stronger stance than the rest of his community, breaking his oath of nonviolence and threatening the shopkeeper with bodily harm if the money wasn’t returned.
“How was Eli to know Mr. Snow would leave town in the middle of the night, taking everyone’s money and leaving his own wife behind?” Without waiting for a response, Esther continued as she paced around the room, the strings of her head cap dangling in a rare show of independence. “Yet, to hear Eli’s brother, Benjamin, and even my own grandfather talk, you’d think
Eli
was the criminal. And he did nothing more than speak his mind.”
“I’m sure it will blow over soon. It has to.” But even as she put words to the hope she knew Esther needed, Claire knew it wasn’t the case. The Amish took their vows very seriously. To break one carried consequences—lasting consequences to those who refused to repent.
A jingle of bells from the main part of the store propelled Claire from her place against the wall. “I’ll get—”
“Esther? Are you here?”
Claire glanced at her employee in time to see the girl freeze, midpace. “Yes. Yes, I am here, Mamm. Just one minute. I will be right there.”
A charge of excitement made Claire reach out, momentarily
thwarting Esther’s move toward the main room. “That’s your mother?”
Esther nodded.
“I didn’t know you’d convinced her to come.”
“I did not know either,” Esther whispered.
It was hard not to laugh at the mixture of bewilderment and fear on the young woman’s face—bewilderment and fear Claire understood yet was equally anxious to ease. “It’ll be okay, Esther. You wait and see.”