Amish Wilderness Survival, page 1
They cleared the last step when a shot rang out.
Leora screamed out Fletcher’s name, terrified they’d shot him.
“I’m here. I’m oke.” His voice came from close by.
“Both of you keep quiet,” the woman said and released Leora’s arm. Leora swayed slightly. First, her bruder had gone missing, and now Ethan. After hours on the road, the hired taxi driver had brought her to Ethan’s door and into a nightmare she didn’t understand.
Leora inched toward the sound of Fletcher’s voice while praying she wouldn’t draw attention to herself. Her foot connected with a rock, and she stumbled into the solid wall of his chest.
“I’ve got you,” Fletcher whispered and did his best to steady her despite his secured hands.
Leora pulled in several breaths and ran her clasped hands across her damp forehead. “What are they going to do with us?” she murmured for him alone.
“I don’t know. But we must do whatever is necessary to stay alive.”
Whatever is necessary. The words settled into her troubled thoughts. What would that entail?
Mary Alford was inspired to become a writer after reading romantic suspense greats Victoria Holt and Phyllis A. Whitney. Soon, creating characters and throwing them into dangerous situations that tested their faith came naturally for Mary. In 2012, Mary entered the speed dating contest hosted by Love Inspired Suspense and later received “the call.” Writing for Love Inspired Suspense has been a dream come true for Mary.
Books by Mary Alford
Love Inspired Suspense
Forgotten Past
Rocky Mountain Pursuit
Deadly Memories
Framed for Murder
Standoff at Midnight Mountain
Grave Peril
Amish Country Kidnapping
Amish Country Murder
Covert Amish Christmas
Shielding the Amish Witness
Dangerous Amish Showdown
Snowbound Amish Survival
Amish Wilderness Survival
Visit the Author Profile page at LoveInspired.com.
Amish Wilderness Survival
Mary Alford
Thou art my hiding place; thou shalt preserve me from trouble; thou shalt compass me about with songs of deliverance. Selah.
—Psalm 32:7
To my wonderful readers. Your support through the years has meant the world to me. Thank you all for coming along with me on this journey back to the beautiful West Kootenai Amish community.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
Dear Reader
Excerpt from Targeted in the Desert by Dana Mentink
ONE
I have to help a friend...
Fletcher Shetler couldn’t get the last words his friend said to him out of his head. At the time, he hadn’t thought much about it. That was Ethan—always lending a hand to those in need. Yet the week of silence certainly wasn’t like him. Far from it. Especially not with the new venture Ethan had recently embarked upon demanding so much of his time.
Training dogs for search and rescue missions into the mountains had become Ethan’s passion. He’d worked with military dogs during his career in the marines and talked about how rewarding it had been. When the opportunity arose to train dogs for mountain conditions, Ethan had come to Fletcher to assist, and Fletcher was happy to help. Truth be told, he enjoyed the work.
So far, they had five young dogs going through the training process, and all were promising.
When Ethan had left, he’d assured Fletcher he’d only be gone a couple of days. The time frame had come and gone. The silence on Ethan’s part was setting off all sorts of alarms in Fletcher’s head.
He stared out the kitchen window at the growing clouds hovering near the mountain range near his West Kootenai, Montana, home. The shots he’d heard earlier could have come from anywhere...or they could have come from the same direction as Ethan’s place. With the mountains so close, sound could be distorted by echoing off them.
Because of Fletcher and his bruder Mason’s affiliation with the search and rescue program, the bishop in their district had allowed them to carry cell phones. Fletcher had been trying to reach his friend unsuccessfully for a couple of days.
Coming from a close-knit family with four other bruders, Fletcher had gotten used to looking out for those he loved, and Ethan was like family.
Still, as a former marine, Ethan Connors was more than capable of taking care of himself. He’d proved this time and again. So why was Fletcher so worried? Maybe it had been the look of concern in Ethan’s eyes when he’d told Fletcher about the trip, or the fact Ethan rarely went a day without touching base with either Fletcher or Mason. Even when he’d had the flu, Ethan had checked in daily because not only was he a partner in Fletcher, Ethan and Mason’s hunting guide business, but he was also a key member of the county’s search and rescue team.
Now, with the cold setting in and hunting season looming, the chance of someone getting lost up in the mountains would increase dangerously with the influx of hunters roaming the countryside. Ethan would want to be around to respond to calls.
So where was he?
The knot in Fletcher’s stomach wouldn’t let him simply dismiss his concerns and go about his daily chores. If something had happened to his friend and he did nothing, Fletcher wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.
He smacked his palms against the kitchen counter, grabbed his coat and headed out the door, the decision made. He’d ride over to Ethan’s and check on the dogs; see for himself that everything was okay. Maybe Ethan had returned exhausted from his trip. That would explain why he wasn’t answering any of Fletcher’s calls. This was the outcome he hoped for, and yet the little niggling at the back of his mind wouldn’t let him accept it.
As he saddled the horse, he could almost picture Ethan teasing him when he showed up at his door worried about the ex-marine. The thought made Fletcher smile, yet it didn’t ease his concerns.
Though Fletcher had helped Ethan build the training facility, they’d been friends for several years—since Fletcher had been introduced to Ethan through Fletcher’s older bruder Aaron.
Ethan’s love for hunting had made him a gut fit for the hunting guide business Fletcher and Mason had started. From there, he and Mason had joined the county’s search and rescue services at Ethan’s urging. When his friend had voiced his desire to train dogs for the SAR program, Fletcher had willingly agreed to assist. He was proud of the work they did for the county through the SAR program. It was fulfilling, gave him a sense of giving back to his community, as well.
While he and Ethan had worked on the training facility, his friend had shared some of the missions he’d been part of when he’d served on a special ops team. From going into a heavily guarded enemy prison to rescue a US soldier, to having to defuse a bomb seconds before it was scheduled to go off. Fletcher couldn’t imagine going through such dangerous missions when the lives of his fellow soldiers, as well as others they were trying to save, were on the line.
Fletcher climbed up into the saddle and urged Jacob, the two-year-old gelding, from the barn. Once they cleared the structure, he pressed his knees against the gelding’s sides. Jacob immediately responded and took off at a hard gallop.
Fall in the mountains presented its own dangers. You never knew when you’d run into a stray bear foraging for a last bit of food before going into hibernation. And sometimes the snow came early, creating havoc to those not prepared for the winter months.
Halfway to Ethan’s place, the dogs could be heard barking anxiously. Something was definitely wrong. Tension worked along Fletcher’s spine. He rode harder while all sorts of terrible possibilities raced through his head. The sunny day shifted overhead. A cool breeze chased down from the snowcapped mountains. Ugly clouds gathering around the peaks seemed to warn something was coming, and Fletcher wasn’t sure it would be confined to the weather alone.
Once he crested the final hill, Ethan’s house and barn spread out before him. Near the barn, the training facility he’d worked on always made him proud. A fine example of Amish craftsmanship that went back generations.
Yet today, his admiration was eclipsed by the mounting concern for his friend. It twisted like knives between Fletcher’s shoulder blades. He’d worked with the pups long enough to be able to interpret each of their sounds. The calls coming from them now were alerting Fletcher to trouble. The only question was how bad it was going to be.
Please, Gott, let Ethan be oke.
Fletcher applied enough pressure with his right leg for the gelding to respond. Jacob headed left to the training facility while all sorts of bad outcomes flew through Fletcher’s mind. Had something happened to Ethan inside the facility and the dogs were doing their best to bring help?
“Whoa, boy.” Fletcher pulled back on the reins once they reached the building. When the horse had stopped, he hopped down a
Fletcher reached the gate and started to open it when something occurred to him. Molly wasn’t barking her head off like the pups. The ten-year-old German shepherd had once been a military dog until she’d retired and Ethan had adopted her. Though Molly wasn’t part of the training sessions, she was highly skilled. If something had happened at Ethan’s place, then the dog would be sounding the alarm.
“Molly, come,” he called out and waited. After several more tries to locate the dog, his worries skyrocketed.
Molly normally stayed in the house with Ethan and had her own doggy door so she could come and go as she pleased. With the pups making so much noise, he’d expect Molly to be close.
Even if she’d gone out exploring, with all the commotion and with Fletcher calling her, Molly would come if she could.
If she could... Fletcher’s own words haunted him. He quickly unlatched the gate and entered the pen. Two of the bloodhounds were outside the building in the dog run. Both stopped their barking and came over to investigate. Radar and Dakota recognized Fletcher and quieted, wagging their tails.
“What’s got you all so worked up? Is Ethan in there?” If only answers could be found in those serious eyes.
He did his best to soothe the dogs, petting each one before he stepped inside the building. Right away, the rest of the dogs ceased barking. The two St. Bernard pups, Nimshi and Trackr, bounded over first. Kit, the Bluetick Coonhound, the newest dog to join the training, was a bit more hesitant. She seemed to take her cue from the rest and came over to sniff Fletcher’s leg.
His gaze searched the open space where the dogs slept. There was no sign of Ethan, or any indication he’d been there recently. So, if it wasn’t Ethan, then what had the dogs so worked up? Molly’s absence was the most troubling concern in his opinion.
After he fed the dogs, Fletcher checked their water before leaving the building.
“Molly—come here, girl.” He tried again to get the dog’s attention. Fletcher scanned the countryside around the spread for any sign of the animal or anything out of place. He found neither.
The garage was on the other side of the training facility. Fletcher started for it at a rushed click while praying he would see Ethan’s truck parked inside. He swung the door open. The cavernous empty space wiped away all hope that this was just a strange occurrence and the dogs had gotten themselves worked up without a gut reason.
Fletcher strode quickly for the house. A little way from the front entrance, he caught sight of the door standing open. Only slightly, but still...
His footsteps faltered. When he’d checked on the dogs the day before, the door had been closed. If Ethan wasn’t home, then why would the door be open?
Fletcher felt inside his coat pocket; only the knife he kept with him for use around the farm. He’d left the house in a hurry and had forgotten to bring the cell phone. It wasn’t something Fletcher had gotten accustomed to carrying even with the bishop’s permission. Still, without the phone, there would be no way to call for help. Ethan didn’t have a landline anymore.
Fletcher returned to the gelding and removed the rifle from its holster near the saddle before pocketing additional shells. The open door brought a whole new possible threat to the situation. One that warned him not to go inside unarmed.
With his heart pounding in his ears, Fletcher started for the house once more. He reached the porch and stepped up on it. What he saw on the door stopped him in his tracks. Blood. Smeared near the handle. Someone or something was hurt.
Fletcher pulled in a breath and eased through the open door. The sight inside the house confirmed he had reason to be worried. It had been torn apart. Someone had been looking for something specific.
What if the people who had destroyed Ethan’s home were still here?
Fletcher’s grip tightened on the rifle while he listened to the uncomfortable penetrating silence. What if the person was still there? He could be walking into a setup.
He stepped into the kitchen where drawers had been opened, contents strewed across the counters and floor. The rest of the house proved the same state of disarray, yet so far there was no sign of the person who had done the damage or any indication Ethan had ever returned.
As a former marine who had been part of some high-level special ops missions, Ethan had told him several times that he’d made lots of enemies who wanted him dead, which was why he’d created a panic room in the house.
It was all Fletcher had left to check. If Ethan was hurt, maybe he’d used the room to escape his attackers? Hope flared for a second before Fletcher thought it through more clearly. If Ethan was hiding, he’d have seen Fletcher’s approach through the monitors in the room and come out. Unless he couldn’t.
Fletcher blindly ran down the hall to the entrance. He couldn’t get inside the room fast enough. Once he’d pressed the wall panel where the keypad was disguised, a space on the wall flipped open. The keypad appeared. Fletcher punched in the code as fast as his fingers would slide across the keyboard. The door swung open. “Ethan? Are you here?”
Nothing but more disappointing silence. Yet something shifted in the corner of the room. Fletcher quickly flipped on the light. His hope at finding his friend safe evaporated. The person shielding their eyes against the overhead glare wasn’t Ethan at all, but a woman. An Amish woman.
She slowly dropped her hand and stared at him with huge, fearful eyes.
Fletcher immediately lowered the weapon. “Who are you? Where’s Ethan?”
The woman clutched her arms around her body without answering. The guarded look on her face assured him she didn’t trust him enough to give answers.
“My name is Fletcher Shetler. Ethan is my friend and business partner. I won’t hurt you. I promise. Can you tell me what happened here?”
The woman’s clear blue eyes widened almost as if she recognized his name. Her dark red hair peeked out from beneath her traveling bonnet. It seemed to suggest she’d just arrived and hadn’t had time to remove it.
As he continued to study her appearance, Fletcher’s frown deepened. He didn’t remember seeing a buggy outside, and he didn’t recognize her from their community. How had she gotten here?
“I am Leora Mast,” she said at last, her voice unsteady and barely above a whisper. “Ethan spoke of you often.” She closed her eyes briefly, as if to gather her strength. “But I have no idea what happened here or where Ethan is.”
Ethan spoke of him... This woman knew Ethan.
The shots he’d heard earlier were foremost on his mind. “When did you arrive here?” She appeared innocent enough, yet she was the only person inside a ransacked house, and his friend still wasn’t home. He couldn’t afford to dismiss anything.
Leora watched him cautiously, and he found himself a little off balance by the intensity in the depths of those eyes. “Not long. Maybe ten minutes before you arrived.”
He’d heard a vehicle traveling down the road near Ethan’s place. He’d been too worried about his friend to think much of it.
“I hired an Amish taxi to get here. When I walked in and saw the mess, I was worried about Ethan.”
Fletcher’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know Ethan?” Nothing about what he’d found so far made sense, including her and her claim of being Ethan’s friend.
“My bruder was in his marine unit. Ethan kept in touch with Tanner and with me. We became friends through the years though we’ve never actually met in person. Anyway, I’ve been trying to reach Ethan by phone for several days now. When I couldn’t get him or Tanner on the phone, I came to make sure he was oke.”
Ethan had never mentioned this woman before. What she said about her brother sank in past the fog of fear. “Your bruder isn’t Amish?”
Leora hesitated, as if debating how much to trust him with. “Nay, he left the faith many years ago. He and Ethan became close while serving together. When he couldn’t reach my bruder, Ethan would call me at my Englisch employer’s fabric shop. Tanner had told him if he ever needed to get in contact with him and couldn’t, he should call me,” she said in answer to his next question. “Tanner traveled around a lot when he left the marines. Ethan often had trouble keeping in touch, so he would call me to get an update. Over time, Ethan and I became friends. We shared a common bond—my bruder.” She shrugged and glanced around the room. “After I found the house in such a state and I saw you approaching, I came in here. I thought you were part of the people responsible for this mess.”
