Read Heritage of Lancaster County 03 The Reckoning for Free Online

plain Katherine. I wouldn't mind it one bit if you never addressed me as 'miss' again."
    "Consider it done," Theodore replied with a grin.
    "Better mark it down," Fulton teased, and Rosie elbowed him playfully.
    They continued to eat amidst chatter and laughter. Garrett, at one point, leaned up against the table, looking now at Fulton. "Excuse me, but what was all that racket this morning?"
    The butler adjusted his glasses. "Quite odd, I must say. The fellow showed up at the door asking for Katie Lapp. Of all the gall."
    "Did you tell him we sent her packing?" Katherine said, glad of it.
    "Absolutely, but the man seemed intent, on tracking her down. He persisted with an inquiry as to her destination upon leaving here."
    "Did he say who he was?" Rosie asked, no longer smiling.
    Fulton was thoughtful, frowning as he placed his dessert fork next to a few chocolate crumbs on his plate. "The fellow never stated his name. But he assured me that Katie and he went a long way back.., to Pennsylvania Amish country, no less."
    That brought a volley of laughter from them all, including Katherine, who couldn't help but wonder if the poor fellow had been duped by the impostor, or if he was in fact an actor himself, seeking unlawful employment as the fake Katie Lapp had. "You got rid of him, then?"
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    Fulton nodded. "And if I'm not mistaken, the young man seemed quite upset by the end of our conversation."
    Katherine didn't feel one bit sorry for whoever had come to call this morning. In truth, she hoped she'd never have to see hide nor hair of that woman.., that obnoxious "Katie"!
    A brisk breeze blew as Mary hurried down Hickory Lane, careful not to stumble on icy patches of snow along the roadside. The sky was a vast cloak of gray hanging in heavy folds overhead, nearly close enough to touch. Two crows flew across the road, their black wings flapping hard against the impending sky.
    The Hollow seemed deserted this afternoon. Maybe everyone had gone to Gordonville to shop--plenty of stores to buy such things as fabric and sewing supplies. On Saturdays, Amish folk often hired Mennonite van drivers to take them places, shopping, and such. Folks liked to get out and about, even in the middle of winter, especially if the roads were fairly clear of snow. And they were this afternoon, although the darkening clouds held the threat of a winter storm. Best to get out before the weather turned nasty.
    Not a quarter of amile away, the bishop's enclosed gray carriage was parked off to the side, by the grove of trees, just as he'd promised.
    "Glory be," Mary whispered as she quickened her pace, willing her heart to resume its normal pace, but to no avail.
    Several yards away, as she approached the buggy, she slowed to a proper walk, not wanting to give the bishop the notion that she was too eager.
    John surprised her by jumping out of the carriage. "Wie geht's, Mary?"
    "Hullo, John."
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    They fell silent straightaway, Mary keeping her head down, wondering what to say next.
    He coughed a little. "Trouble gettin' out today?"
    She knew he was asking if anybody might be privy to their planned rendezvous. "Dat has no idea." Careful not to mention Mamma's womanly intuition, she changed the subject. "A wunderbaar schee day, jab?"
    "Nice, it is, though a bit nippy and gra?T.'' He offered his gloved hand, helping her into the carriage, then hurried around to the other side to get in.
    More than anything she wanted this--her first time alone with John--to go real smooth. Without a hitch in conversation, deed, and thought. The lovely moments must pass perfectly. Yet her heart thumped hard against her woolen shawl.
    The bishop flapped the reins, and the horse moved out onto the road, into plain view. They rode for miles and miles without saying a word, the sleek bay mare steaming in the cold, clip-clopping along at a comfortable trot.
    At last John broke the silence, speaking of his eldest son, young Hickory John. "The boy's leanin' hard toward learning a trade