A Time To Heal (19 page)

Well, she didn't intend to just go away. He owed her some answers.

She slowed the horse and then guided it to make a U-turn.Then she yanked on the reins, urging Pilot to go faster in Chris's direction.

He had some explaining to do.

But as she drew closer, she saw that he stood not far from where she'd left him and he was talking to someone in a car.
What was going on?
she wondered as she slowed the horse to a stop and waited.

Chris raised his hands, the way she'd seen a man do once when a police officer arrested him. Glancing over, she saw then sun glint off something shiny in the hand of the driver of the car.

He had a gun, and he was pointing it at Chris!

Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt nauseous for a moment.Then she forced herself to take a deep breath and calm down.She glanced up and down the road, hoping someone would be around.

But the road, usually busy at this time, was empty. There were no homes or businesses close enough to go to, and she didn't have a cell phone.

But there was God.

She sent up a quick prayer to Him and then got the buggy rolling.

Both men turned to look at her as she approached. Her eyes were on Chris and she saw his widen with fear. He mouthed a word she knew, even if she'd never used it. She wiped one clammy hand, then the other, on the skirt of her dress.

Pulling up beside Chris, she waved to him. “Hi, need a ride?”

“He's coming with me,” the other man said.

She glanced at the man and gave him a bright smile. “It's okay, I can give him a ride.”

“No, really, he's coming with me.”

“It's okay. You can go now.”

“I know who you are,” said the man in the car. “Your name's Hannah.”

“She's just passing by,” Chris said. “Let her go.”

“I know who she is,” the man repeated. “Don't try to pull something over on me.”

Hannah studied the man. His photo had been printed with the article. “And I know you too.”

“Don't,” Chris hissed at her. Turning to Kraft, he held out his hands, palms up. “C'mon, man, I'll go with you. Just leave her out of it.”

“Why? You didn't care what it did to my wife when you accused me.”

“You talk like he's the one who did the bad thing. But you did it. You're the one who should have been thinking of your wife when you took that girl and raped her. I read that her parents turned her out saying she'd been dishonored.”

“The sex was consensual. I can't help that they have weird religious customs there.” He gave her a disparaging glance.“So, Chris, you been crying to little Pilgrim girl here?”

Hannah merely looked at him. “No. I looked it up on the Internet. You raped her. Why are you blaming Chris for what you did? Why can't you leave him alone?”

Malcolm told her furiously. “Shut up!” he yelled. “You don't know what you're talking about! He ruined my life!”

“It's time to stop blaming others, Malcolm,” she said, her tone quiet and reasonable. “Ask God to put you on a better path. It's not too late to start new.”

Chris walked over to Hannah's side of the buggy. “Let it be,” he said, looking at her intently. “You don't know who you're dealing with.”

“I thought Amish chicks knew how to keep their mouths shut,” Malcolm muttered.

Malcolm pulled his cap lower as a car approached. “Don't try anything stupid.”

The car stopped and a man leaned out the window. “You folks need some help?”

“We're good,” Malcolm told them. “Thanks.”

The man nodded and drove on.

“Let her go, and I'll go anywhere you want.”

“Chris—”

Malcolm nodded. “Get in the car.”

“Chris!”

“Turn the buggy around, Hannah. Now.”

When she hesitated, Chris leaned in, his voice low and intense. “Trust me. I was a soldier. I know how to get out of a tight spot. Now don't do anything stupid.”

“But—”

“Don't you understand?” He grasped her arm with a grip so tight it hurt. “I'd never forgive myself if anything happened to you. Promise me you'll go straight home and be safe.”

Without waiting to see that she did what he told her to do, he got in the passenger side of the car.

He just didn't know her. She'd always been a little rebellious.Matthew could tell him story after story about that. Torn, she stared at him sitting in the car for a long moment.

Then, inspiration struck. She pulled the buggy into a U-turn.

And stopped directly in front of Malcolm's car.

She turned and saw the two men struggling. She prayed and prayed as Chris fought to grasp the gun. But Malcolm slammed it against his head and got out of the car.

Chris was right behind him, clutching his head. “Hannah, get out of here!” Chris yelled.

But Malcolm already stood beside the buggy. “What, are you nuts?” He raised his gun. “I've had enough of you!” He pulled her from the buggy and shook her.

Chris came up behind him and grabbed at the gun, and the two men tussled for it again. Malcolm slammed the weapon against Chris's head again, and he sagged from the pain.

Malcolm turned and aimed the gun at Chris.

Hannah didn't think. “No!” she cried, flinging herself between the men.

She heard the shot, felt the burning pain in her arm and her side.

She stared down at the blood pouring out, then at Chris grappling with Malcolm, slamming his fist into the other man's face. Malcolm collapsed onto the road and lay still.Chris pulled off his belt, dragged Malcolm's arms behind his back and secured them.

The scene reminded her of the movie she'd seen once during her
rumschpringe—
not real. She watched Chris finish tying Malcolm's arms and held out her own injured one, staring at it as if it didn't belong to her. It dripped blood, dark red blood.Her head felt light and things were going gray.

She watched Chris jump to his feet and rush toward her, then everything went dark, as if it turned from day to night.

The second Chris made sure he'd subdued Malcolm, he jumped up and rushed to Hannah's side.

She lay on the road, so still. Her eyes were closed, and the color had drained from her face. Blood pooled around her side and her arm. Everyone who'd served in the field had been taught basic first aid. The pumping of blood from her arm meant the brachial artery had been nicked or severed. If he didn't stop it right away, death would come in a matter of minutes.There was no time to wait for paramedics.

Forcing himself to stay calm, he checked her arm and guessed that the bullet had only nicked the artery. He yanked at the sleeve of her dress and it tore away at the shoulder seam.Wrapping the sleeve around her arm just above the wound, he tied it tightly, and the bleeding slowed to a trickle.

The wound in her side wasn't as bad as he feared. The bullet had torn through her arm, exited, and traveled through her side. If she was lucky—and so far she was because she was still alive—it might have missed vital organs. He prayed that it had.

Shrugging off his jacket, he folded it and pressed it against her side to stem the bleeding. When his shaking fingers touched her throat, he found her pulse was thready but still beating against his fingers.

When he looked up to scan the road, he saw that Matthew's horse and buggy Hannah had borrowed were barreling down the road, the horse terrorized by the sound of the gun firing.

Malcolm's car was parked behind him, but even if he managed to pick Hannah up and move her into it without her losing too much blood, he didn't have any idea where the nearest hospital was.

He pulled out his cell phone, but it was dead. He hadn't charged the battery in days. Getting up, he pulled Malcolm's cell from the holder on his pants, dialed 911, and tersely requested help.

That done, he knelt at Hannah's side and checked on her wounds again. The tourniquet still held firm, and the bleeding had slowed tremendously. The wound in her side seeped a little, but continuing to press on it helped slow the bleeding.

So much blood. She'd lost so much blood.

Tires screeched on the road and a car came to a stop. A man and a woman got out and rushed over. “What happened?”

“He shot her,” Chris told them quickly, waving his hand at Malcolm who hadn't stirred. “Have you got a blanket or something in your car? She's going into shock.”

The woman ran back to the car.

“Did you call 911?” the man asked even as he pulled his cell phone out.

“Yeah.”

Other cars stopped by the road and people gathered. “Can you get them to move?” Chris asked. “The ambulance'll never get in here if they're in the way.”

“Sure thing, mister.”

The woman returned and helped Chris tuck the blanket around Hannah.

“Poor thing,” she said. “Why would someone shoot an Amish woman?”

Chris heard a siren, then another. Emergency vehicles parked and paramedics ran over.

“He got off one shot,” he told them. “It went through her arm, nicking her artery and passing through her side.” He pulled the jacket away to reveal the wound. “She's lost so much blood.”

They went into action, one paramedic doing his own compression on the side wound, another taking vitals and setting up an IV.

“Sir? Sir?”

Chris looked up to see a police officer.

“I need to ask you some questions.”

“We'll take good care of her,” one of the paramedics told him.

Another officer escorted a now-conscious Malcolm to a patrol car. Malcolm looked scared now, not filled with rage.

“What happened here?”

As briefly as he could, Chris filled the officer in with what Malcolm had done. Over the policewoman's shoulder, he watched as the paramedics placed Hannah on a gurney and pushed it toward the ambulance.

Chris glanced over at the road as he heard the pounding of hooves. A buggy came into view. The horse's mouth dripped foam from the exertion.

Chris felt a mixture of relief and trepidation as he saw Matthew and Jenny in the buggy. Matthew pulled the buggy beside the road and he and Jenny got out and ran over.

“What happened?” Matthew cried as a police officer held him back. “Let me through, I'm her
bruder.”

Chris nodded and the officer let him and Jenny rush toward Hannah.

Matthew spoke with the paramedics and then he climbed into the ambulance and sat beside Hannah. The ambulance doors were shut and the vehicle pulled out onto the road and sped off, siren blaring.

Jenny stood by, watching and waiting. When the officer left Chris, she rushed to his side. “What happened? Phoebe came over to tell us about you leaving and why she thought we should call the police. Then Matthew's horse came back with the buggy but no Hannah, and we knew something was wrong.”

Chris ran his hands through his hair. “It's all my fault.” He told her what had happened and Jenny's eyes widened.

“I remember reading about that when I was in the hospital.I never connected your name to the case.”

“Well, Kraft's never forgotten. He blames me. Hannah got into the middle, trying to keep him from shooting me.”

When Jenny pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and reached up to wipe his cheeks, he realized that he was crying.

“You love her, don't you?” she whispered, her eyes wide.

“Look what good my love was for her.”

She hugged him. “Stop that. Let's get a ride to the hospital and find out how she's doing.”

Jenny walked over to the officer who'd questioned Chris and spoke with her. The policewoman glanced at Chris and nodded. Jenny waved to Chris and they got into the police car.

The ride to the hospital wasn't the most comfortable for Chris. It was his first-ever ride in the backseat of a police car.Through the metal screen that separated the front and back seats he watched as Jenny chatted with the officer driving them to the hospital.

And he noticed how often the officer met his eyes in the rearview mirror.

He felt trapped and anxious, wondering if Kraft was weaving some story to extricate himself from his troubles on his way to the police station.

But he wanted to see Hannah, and he didn't know how to get there quickly except to go with the officer. And then maybe it would be best if he kept on going. He'd been responsible for her getting seriously hurt—almost killed. She didn't need a man like him in her life. Trouble had just followed him and caused her pain.