"I just wondered."

"Well, you'd better eat, or your mamm won't be happy with you."

Franey returned with more potatoes and fresh basket of rolls.

As the little boy picked up his fork, both Rufus and Annalise glanced at the older boys. In between passing dishes around the table, the boys huddled with low voices. Something about their demeanor discomfited Rufus, and he looked from one father to the other expecting at least gentle chastisement. None came. Instead, smiles abounded for the Stutzman girls, who had each contributed a dish to the evening's meal.

Ten years ago it would have meant nothing more than friendship for the Stutzmans and Beilers to share a meal in the home of one family or the other. Now Rufus knew better. The girls had grown up in those ten years. Marriage prospects were considerably slimmer for them here in Colorado, as they were for Rufus himself. Every time Rufus had a meal with the Stutzmans, all three daughters paraded their homemaking skills. Rufus suspected that since he had not made any overtures toward Beth, Johanna now thought there was hope she could attract him. She smiled at him with a new expression tonight-several times.

Rufus turned his gaze away, offering no encouragement. Annalise sat across the table. Yesterday's kiss still lingered on his lips. She deserved better than to have to sit quietly and watch him find the fine line between discouraging the Stutzman girls and sinking to rudeness himself.

By the time his mother was offering coffee with Beth's blackberry pie, Rufus had made up his mind.

"I could use a walk after that fine meal," Rufus said. "Ike, perhaps you'd like to stretch your legs with me." Annalise's brow furrowed, and he saw her catch herself and make her face placid again even as she watched his movements. It was time he set things right.

The older man dipped his head as he glanced to his wife. "Of course."

They walked toward the Beilers' alfalfa fields. "We got here too late to prepare for the spring seeding," Ike said. "Just barely. But we have the early fall seeding to look forward to. We could still have a nice crop this year."

Rufus nodded. He locked his hands behind his waist. "I wanted to have a word in private, Ike."

"Oh?"

Rufus saw the hope in Ike's eyes. He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Ike, but I must tell you I don't lean toward the attentions of your daughters."

"You are just getting to know them," Ike protested. "We've only been here a few weeks. They are not the little girls you left behind six years ago."

"Clearly. But still, I would not like to think that any of them might mistake my intentions, for I have none. We are old family friends. I mean no harm to anyone, but your fine daughters would do well to turn their attention elsewhere."

Ike's thumb and forefinger stroked his beard. "I see."

"I hope you do, Ike. Your girls respect you. They will listen if you provide guidance."

"Of course they would. There can be no question of that. But I am sorry to hear you feel this is necessary."

"It's best for everyone, I believe."

"It's because of that outsider."

Rufus squelched a sigh. Though it still irked, Ike's response was no surprise. "This has only to do with me, I assure you. Please do not blame Annalise."

"You defend her quite quickly, I notice."

"Annalise needs no defending."

"I understand your reluctance about the younger girls, but Beth is mature enough to be a wife."

"I'm sure she is, and I hope she will meet someone soon."

Ike huffed. "Well, then. I suppose you are no more particular than you have ever been, or you would have married before you left Pennsylvania."

Rufus put his hands out, palms up. "I felt I should tell you. If you like, I will speak to Beth."

"She is still my daughter and under my care. I will speak to her."

Rufus turned his steps back toward the house. "Perhaps we should have a last cup of coffee."

Rufus discovered the boys had left to take a walk as well. In the living room, sitting among the Stutzman sisters, Annalise looked desperate for rescuing. At least he would get to drive her home.

On Monday afternoon, Annie tooled around town on her bicycle with a list of errands. Mrs. Weichert had decided to run an ad for a 20 percent off sale in the newspaper. She insisted on delivering the ad the same way she always had-an old-fashioned piece of original art, which her daughter had created with careful lettering. Annie tried to explain that the newspaper would likely scan and digitize the ad anyway, but Mrs. Weichert was not interested in the conversation. She seemed to prefer living in the century in which most of her shop's goods had originated.

Once that was delivered, Annie crossed the street and went down a couple of blocks to the narrow storefront library. The sturdy but kind librarian had called the shop earlier in the day to let Annie know her interlibrary loan book had arrived from a university in Indiana. Annie had found a notation referencing this book in a footnote of another equally obscure title that had come through the shop serendipitously more than six weeks ago. The deeper she got into Beiler-or Byler-genealogy, the stronger its vortex churned. Who knew what the new title would reveal?

Last, Annie had promised Mrs. Weichert she would return before closing time with a three-cheese grilled sandwich from the coffee shop to serve as Mrs. Weichert's dinner before she spent the evening doing inventory, for which she had refused Annie's offer of help.

In Annie's experience, the coffee shop catered to the morning crowd with a burst at lunchtime before an afternoon lull. To her surprise, the coffee shop was bustling at ten minutes to five. She placed an order and paid for it-adding a sandwich for herself-and sank into a brown leather love seat as she waited. At least four orders were ahead of hers, and while friendly enough, the staff did not specialize in speed. The waiting time would allow her to explore the genealogy book and determine if it would yield information about her ancestors.

Annie had done enough reading in coffee shops to block out the voices clattering around her. She turned the library book in her hands, drawing in its age on her breath. Carefully she opened the front cover. After scanning the table of contents, Annie flipped to a chapter in the middle of the book and traced her finger down the center of several pages. Finally she came to a list of names, descendants of Christian Byler. Magdalena. What a pretty name, Annie thought, refreshing after generations of Barbaras and Elizabeths and all the variations of those names. She did not know where her own name had come from-she would have to ask her mother-but Annalise made her feel connected to the Annas that seemed to turn up in every generation of Bylers.

Annie glanced up at the counter, just to be sure the sandwiches were not ready, as the conversation behind her compelled her attention.

"Carter, your dad has been looking for you all afternoon."

The voice belonged to Colton, the man who worked for Tom Reynolds at the hardware store.

"Um, I had something to do after school."

Carter Reynolds.

Annie did not move her head, but she stopped seeing words on the page as she listened to the exchange.

"He's pretty annoyed that you didn't call," Colton said.

"I guess I should skip the latte and go home." Resignation rang through Carter's tone. Nervous resignation.

Annie touched the look-alike phone in her back pocket that Carter had returned to the shop.

"If I were you, I'd call him now," Colton said.

"Um, I guess."

"Don't you have your phone?"

"Actually, no."

"He's not going to like it if you lost your phone again."

"I know where it is. I just don't have it with me."

"The only reason he lets you have a phone is so he can stay in touch with you."

"I know. I just had to use it for something today and...left it there."

Annie nearly turned her head to look at Carter. Why the vagary?

"Maybe you should go get it," Colton said.

"Um, I can't really. Besides...it might not still be there."

"Why not?"

"Um...a friend needed it. For a science experiment."

Annie raised her head out of the book.

"You're not talking sense." Colton sighed. "Here. Use mine."

"Thanks."

"Oh, just a minute. Let me turn off the alarm. It's about to go off."

A cell phone alarm. Missing fertilizer. Boys playing with science. This was not good.

Annie smacked the library book shut and maneuvered out of the love seat as quickly as she could. How fast could she pedal out to the rock where Elijah Capp and Ruth Beiler used to meet?

Breathless when she arrived, she was not the first one there. When Annie saw Karl Kramer's car, she pedaled faster, supposing she could get closer on the bike than he could get with his car. She could not make herself believe the boys had a target in mind. Karl was climbing the path that was meant to be a trail soon, a path that would take him straight to the rock with its broad flat surface perfect for stargazing.

When she was within twenty yards of him, she let the bike fall away from under her and threw off her helmet.

"Stop!"

Karl stopped, but only for a moment. "I'm looking for something." He took three more long strides.

"I know. But you have to stop."

"Don't tell me what to do."

"Why did you come here, Karl?"

"I'm working with Rufus to make this into a park. You know that." His face contorted in aggravation.

Annie moved cautiously forward, her eyes scanning for small clues, her heart thudding. She hoped she was wrong.

"Yes, I know," she said, "but why now? Why did you come now?"

"If you must know, I got an anonymous tip about my missing fertilizer."

"It's only a few bags, Karl."

"I'm inclined to slap the next person who says that. The principle of the thing is at stake-someone took what belonged to me. I won't stand for that."

"It was probably just some kids seeing what they could get away with." She took a few steps forward and to one side, where she could get a better view of the boulder.

"I can see that. This place is loaded with fresh footprints." He gestured to the ground.

The boys. How many of them? Had Joel been here?

Still Annie searched, wondering if a group of teenage boys would have the math and science skills required for what she suspected. She doubted Carter and Duncan could have done this on their own, but she had heard the Amish claim that their eighth-grade education was comparable to a conventional high school diploma. Did they teach chemistry? Circuitry? Physics? Perhaps. Elijah Capp astounded her with what he understood about circuitry and ignition, and he had never used electricity in his life.

Mark and Luke Stutzman had once blasted rock in a Pennsylvania meadow.

And Joel. How had he dared to ask her to trust him if he knew this was going on?

She guessed that Duncan Spangler would do anything on a dare.

Carter Reynolds was naive enough to be talked out of his cell phone. In the intrigue of the moment, he would not think about how he would explain its absence to his parents later.

"Karl," Annie pleaded. "Please. You have to stop."

"I am not going to be the butt of somebody's practical joke." Karl kept moving.

Annie saw it then. The fertilizer. the wire. The cell phone with a network of wires taped in place.

"Karl!"

Annie was too far away to see the first vibration of the cell phone. The flash made her cover her eyes.

Twenty-Nine.

October 1777 Is he gone?"

Jacob turned to see his mother standing at the entrance to the tannery. Elizabeth seldom came to see where he worked, though he had labored side by side at the lime-filled vats with his father since he was a child. No one was with her. She must have walked all the way down from the big house unaccompanied.

Jacob sighed heavily and put down the blade he was using to trim excess leather off a bridle. "Yes, Joseph left."

Though he was sure his mother knew the truth before she asked, Jacob's heart pinched when her face fell.

"He tried to say good-bye," she said, "but I wouldn't let him."

"Joseph will come back, Mamm," Jacob said.