Page 41 of The Hidden One

He lowers the horse’s hoof and straightens, looks at me over his shoulder. “You found him.”

The smells of horses and wood and fresh-cut hay play at my olfactory nerves as I approach him. “Nice place you have here.”

“We like it.” He tips his head, looks at me from beneath the brim of his cowboy hat. “I’m not taking on any new clients right now.”

“I’d like to ask you some questions about Ananias Stoltzfus.”

He pushes up the brim of his hat, gives me a once-over. “You some kind of cop?”

I introduce myself. “I’m the chief of police in Painters Mill, Ohio, but I’m here as a friend of the Bowman family.”

“Burkholder, huh? You Amish or what?”

“I was.”

“Huh.” He sets down the rasp he’d been using and gives me his full attention. “Wouldn’t want to be in Jonas Bowman’s shoes. Dude’s in a shitload of trouble.”

I nod. “I hear you had some problems with Ananias Stoltzfus yourself.”

“Word gets around, don’t it?” He laughs, but there’s an edge to it. “You’d think after all these years those Amish pricks would find something else to talk about besides me.”

“I was probably asking pointed questions,” I tell him.

“At least you’re honest about it.”

“I understand you were excommunicated.” I make the statement in Deitsch. I’m not above using whatever connection I share with this man to gain his trust and get him to talk to me.

He blinks in surprise, but takes the question in stride. “Broke my parents’ hearts, but there was no going back. No one to blame but Ananias Stoltzfus. Not to speak ill of the dead, but that sumbitch was mean as a damn snake.”

“What happened?”

“He didn’t like me dating a Mennonite girl.” His eyes sweep to the doorway to indicate the woman on the horse. “Ananias found out and tried to warn me away from her. When I didn’t give her up, he put me under the bann. When I didn’t come around, he lowered the boom.” He levels a knowing gaze on me. “If you were Amish, you know what that means.”

“I do.”

“Not only was it tough on my family, but it ruined me financially. I’m a farrier, you know. My clients were Amish. They refused to let me shoe their horses. I’d just bought some equipment so I could hot-shoe, and then there goes my business. My equipment got repossessed. Credit got ruined.” He spits out the last word as if it’s gone rotten in his mouth. “So, yeah, I wasn’t real happy with the bishop.”

The level of animosity after so much time surprises me. “Did you argue with him?”

“He was trying to run my life and when I didn’t let him, he ruined me. So, yeah, we had a go of it a few times. He was too strict and he wasn’t very nice about it. I wasn’t the only one who thought so.”

“Anyone in particular?”

“It was kind of a general consensus kind of thing. The Amish don’t go around complaining about their bishop, if you know what I mean.”

“Did the police talk to you when Ananias disappeared?”

“Oh, yeah. They came pounding on my door first thing, pointing their fingers and asking questions. Had me on their radar for years. No offense, but I’m not a big fan of cops.”

“None taken.”

“Lucky for me, Bowman left that old muzzleloader at the scene.” He lets out a nervous laugh. “Or else it might’ve been me stuck in jail instead of him.”

“What do you think happened to Ananias Stoltzfus?” I ask.

“As far as I’m concerned, Bowman did all of us a big favor.”

When I don’t respond, he shakes his head. “Look, I have no clue who offed the old man. All I’m saying is people have their limits.”