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Grams was her responsibility.
    She stood and went to her, the desk chair rolling backward from the pressure of her hands. She put her arm around her grandmother's waist.
    Grams didn't seem to need her support. She had pride and dignity to keep her upright.
    "Don't 'now, Grams,' me, Rachel Elizabeth. I know what I heard, and I don't require any soothing platitudes."
    Rachel shot a fulminating glance at Tyler. At least he had the grace to look unhappy at this turn of events. He'd look worse when she finished telling him what she thought.
    "Grams, I'm sure you misunderstood." She tried for a light tone. "You always told us that eavesdroppers never hear anything good, remember?"
    Grams ignored her, staring steadily at Tyler. "I must apologize. I'm not in the habit of listening in on other people's conversations, but you were both too busy arguing to realize I was there."
    "I just want to protect you—" Rachel began.
    Her grandmother cut her short with a look. "I don't require protection. I knew my husband well enough to be quite confident that he'd never have been involved in anything underhanded. I have nothing to fear from Mr. Dunn's inquiry."
    "Of course not, but it's still upsetting. Please, Grams, let me handle this."
    Her only response was to move to her armchair and be seated, folding her hands in her lap. "I'll answer any question you wish to ask." She glanced up at the portrait. "The truth can't harm my husband."
    Grams might want to believe that, but Rachel wasn't so sure. Of course she knew Grandfather had been perfectly honest, but rumors, once started, could be difficult to stop.
    She glanced at Tyler. He looked as if getting what he wanted had taken him by surprise.
    "It's very good of you to agree to talk with me about this." He'd apparently decided on a formal approach. Good. If she caught the slightest whiff of disrespect, he'd be out of here before he knew what hit him.
    Grams inclined her head graciously. "I don't know that I have much to offer. My husband only discussed business with me in very general terms."
    Tyler's mouth tightened fractionally. "Start by telling me what you remember about John Hostetler. You must have known him, since you were such close neighbors."
    "I knew him. Knew of him, certainly. He was a rather difficult person, from everything I recall. After his wife died, he became bitter, cutting himself off from the community."
    "Do you know if your husband had any business dealings with him? Did he talk to you about wanting to buy the place?"
    She frowned. "I don't remember, but if he did, it would be in his ledgers. Rachel will make them available to you."
    She swallowed the protest that sprang to her lips. Tyler could strain his eyes looking through decades of her grandfather's fine black script, and he wouldn't find anything wrong.
    "That's kind of you." Tyler seemed taken aback by that kindness, but that was her grandmother. "Do you know of anyone he was on bad terms with?"
    A faint smile rippled on Grams's expression. "It might be easier to ask with whom he didn't quarrel. I don't mean to speak ill of him, but it's fairly well known that he argued with just about everyone."
    "I remember a visit we made when I was about six. Certainly he and my mother seemed to battle most of the time."
    "I'm afraid that was his nature." Grams spread her hands. "I don't know what else I can say. After his death, the neighbors were concerned about the condition of the farm. Several of them came to Fredrick about it, I remember that." She glanced up at the portrait again. "If he did try to buy it, I'm sure that's why."
    He nodded, not offering any comment. It was what Rachel had told him, too, but she didn't think he was convinced. He wouldn't understand her grandfather's almost-feudal-lord position in the community. Everyone, Amish and English alike, had come to him with their concerns.
    "Do you remember anything about the robbery and his death?"
    Grams moved slightly, and Rachel was instantly on the