Page 23 of A Gathering of Secrets

“What about the girls? Were any of them jealous?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

Once again her mother interjects. “The Amisch aren’t that way, Chief Burkholder.”

I nod, keep my attention focused on Luane. “Is there anything else you want to tell me? Something that might be helpful in terms of figuring out who might’ve set the fire?”

No one speaks. Luane picks at a hangnail that’s begun to bleed. Her mother fusses with the kitchen towel in her hand. Mose makes eye contact with me. Something in his expression tells me he wants to say something in private.

I rise. “Thank you for your time.”

Mose walks me to the door and follows me outside. He doesn’t speak until we reach the Explorer. “Daniel had an argument with his best friend,” he begins.

“What’s his name?” I ask.

“Milo Hershberger. Trains horses up in Millersburg now.”

The name pings my memory. I recall Daniel’s father mentioning Hershberger. He hadn’t said anything about a quarrel. “What was the argument about?”

“What else are two young men going to argue about?” The Amish man’s lips twist into an ironic smile. “A girl.”

I can think of plenty of things that might set off a young male, but I know where this is going. “Luane?”

He tosses a glance over his shoulder, toward the house, and nods.

“Any idea why she didn’t mention it?”

“I think it’s an uncomfortable thing for her to talk about, especially with a stranger.”

I nod. “How bad was the argument?”

“Bad enough. They were best friends since they were little. Practically grew up together. Neither boy ever uttered a cross word.” Grimacing, he shakes his head. “But boys grow into men. And when there’s a woman involved…” Shrugging, he lets the words trail. “They haven’t spoken since it happened. I reckon if you want the details, you ought to talk to Milo about it.”

* * *

I call my second-shift dispatcher, Jodie, on my way to Millersburg and have her run Milo Hershberger through the various databases. He comes back clean. Never been arrested. Not even a parking ticket.

It’s nearly dusk when I pull into the gravel lane of the double-wide mobile home where he lives. It’s a pleasant little ranch located in a rural area a few miles west of Millersburg. I park behind an older Ford F-250 to which a horse trailer is hitched. The property is well tended, the grass mowed, the trees trimmed. Behind the double-wide, I see a small raised garden with a dozen or so tomato cages and a couple rows of corn.

A horse barn with Dutch doors and a cupola with a weather vane on the roof is the focal point of the property. Both the front and back sliding doors are open and I can see the silhouette of a horse standing in cross ties. Two more horses stand inside steel pipe runs. The pound of hooves draws my attention to a large round pen comprised of stock panels. Within a cloud of dust, a young man in a cowboy hat is astride a rangy Appaloosa gelding. The animal lopes prettily, its nose tucked, body collected. Not a buggy horse …

I get out of the Explorer and walk over to the round pen, enjoying the evening as much as the sight of the horse. “He’s gorgeous,” I say by way of greeting.

The young man’s hat slants toward me. “And don’t he know it, too,” he says in a deep voice. “Whoa.”

The animal plants its hindquarters and stops on a dime. The man turns his attention to me. “He’s a headstrong one, that’s for sure.”

“I’m looking for Milo Hershberger.”

“You found him.” He plucks sunglasses off his face and drops them into his shirt pocket, then gives me a thorough once-over. “You here about Danny?”

Milo Hershberger is nineteen years old and boy-next-door attractive. He’s got a round face with brown puppy-dog eyes and a full mouth. His shoulder-length hair is pulled into a short ponytail, revealing a gold stud in his lobe. All of it accentuated by a scruffy beard stylish enough to give Tom Ford a run for his money.

I nod. “Do you have a few minutes?”

“Let me get him cooled off and I’m all yours.”

I don’t feel like waiting, so I follow Hershberger and his horse into the barn and watch while he untacks the animal and slips a sheet over its back. When he’s finished he goes to the small refrigerator in a niche off the aisle and pulls out a cola.