When Secrets Strike. Marta Perry

that sometimes, hearing the bull thudding behind her, getting closer and closer. Sometimes in the dream Aaron reached her in time. Sometimes he didn’t. She wasn’t sure what that meant, if anything.

      In any event, she feared she’d fallen in love with Aaron that day, and her stubborn heart refused to fall back out again, even when he’d married someone else.

      The bell on the door jingled, so Sarah looked toward it, smiling in welcome. The smile faded when she saw Gus Hill slouched in the doorway. In his tattered overalls and stained T-shirt, he didn’t look much like the typical quilt shop customer. As always, his faded baseball cap was pulled low on his forehead, and graying hair hung shaggy around his ears.

      “Good morning, Gus. How can I help you?” Julia might have sent him along with a message, Sarah supposed.

      His sidelong glance skittered along the rows of fabric, then focused on her. “Miz Everly said as how I oughta come by and thank you. Said you looked around for me when you spotted that fire yesterday.”

      So that was the reason behind his visit. If Julia directed Gus to do a thing, he did seem to do it, however much he might skimp in other ways.

      “I was concerned for you,” Sarah said. “I thought you might be asleep and not realize something was wrong.”

      Gus took a step closer, planting a probably grimy hand on a bolt of pale yellow cotton. She tried not to think of the marks he might be leaving. “If I’d a been there, I’d a smelt it for sure.”

      Sarah nodded, but she wondered. If Gus had been drinking, as Mac supposed, would he have been alert enough to notice? Folks said Gus was shrewd in his own way.

      “Well, I was relieved to see you weren’t in danger.” And she’d also be relieved if he’d stop handling the fabric, but she could hardly say so.

      Apparently feeling he’d satisfied his obligation, Gus started to turn away. Then he swung back, frowning. “Here—you didn’t go in my house, did you? Nobody’s got a right to go in my house without I say so.” His voice rasped, and he glared at her.

      A tiny shiver slid along her skin, making the fine hairs lift. “I just looked in to be sure you weren’t there, that’s all.”

      Maybe he was afraid she’d report to Julia on the state of the cottage. Julia probably hadn’t been out there in months, if not years.

      “Yeah, well, see you don’t. Man’s got a right to privacy in his own home, ain’t he?” His tone returned to its usual complaining grumble, and Sarah told herself she must have imagined that note of menace.

      “It’s lucky you weren’t home when the fire started. You might have been hurt trying to fight it on your own.” She’d like to ease him toward the exit, but wasn’t quite sure how to manage it. “You were out early, weren’t you?”

      Anger flared in his face, so quickly it startled her. “No business of yours if I was, you hear?” Gus took a step toward her, oddly menacing.

      Sarah was suddenly aware of how isolated they were. No one else was in the shop, and the old building seemed to echo with the sound of his words.

      Don’t be ferhoodled, she lectured herself. Gus might be a bit disreputable, but he certain sure wasn’t dangerous.

      She straightened. Best to ignore his last remark, she decided. “Thank you for coming by. I’ll be sure to tell Julia about seeing you.”

      For a moment Gus stood there, close enough that she could smell the rank odor of his clothes. Then the bell on the door jingled, and he jerked around. In another instant he shambled out of the shop, brushing by Aaron King without a word.

      Aaron frowned after him before crossing the space to her. “What was Gus Hill doing in here?” He studied her face, his brown eyes seeming to darken. “Was he bothering you?”

      “No, no.” Gus was harmless enough, despite his manner. “He came by because Julia told him he should thank me, but I could have done without the visit.” She pulled the bolt of yellow cotton from the rack. Sure enough, there was a streak of dirt almost the width of the fabric.

      Aaron grasped the bolt, preventing her from walking away. “I glanced in the window when I walked past. You didn’t look right. That’s why I came in.”

      “I’m fine.” She would not be moved by the protectiveness in Aaron’s manner. It didn’t mean anything. “I was just cringing at his touching this material.” She gestured toward the bolt, hoping she sounded natural. “Look at it. I’ll have to cut off the end.”

      Without responding, Aaron took the bolt and carried it to the cutting table for her. She could feel his gaze on her while she moved behind the table and picked up the scissors. Before she could cut, he put his hand lightly on hers, making her pulse jump.

      “We’re friends, Sarah. You’d tell me if something’s troubling you, ain’t so?”

      “There’s nothing. I’m fine.” It took a conscious effort to draw her hand away from his. “What brings you to Blackburn House this morning? You’re not shopping for quilting fabric any more than Gus was, that’s certain sure.”

      She said the words lightly and was surprised by the way his brows drew down and his lips tightened.

      “Aaron?” she questioned. “Was ist letz? What’s wrong?”

      His broad shoulders moved in a shrug. “Nothing’s wrong. I came by to check on something with Harvey Preston, that’s all.”

      Preston was the real estate agent who had an office on the second floor, and she couldn’t help a natural curiosity about Aaron’s business with him. “From your expression, you weren’t happy with his answer, ain’t so?” She smiled up at him. “We’re friends, remember? You can tell me if something’s troubling you.” She repeated his words back to him.

      Aaron started to shake his head and then broke off, his lips moving in an answering smile. “Guess I can’t say it’s not your concern, ain’t so? You remember that I talked to Matthew Gibson before he took off for Florida last fall?”

      “You offered to buy his place if he was thinking of selling.” Gibson’s property was across the road from that of Aaron’s family. It would make a nice addition to the farm, probably doubling the size.

      “He hadn’t made up his mind then, but he promised me that I’d have the first chance at it when he was ready to sell.” Aaron’s clear gaze clouded. “Well, I just found out that Preston was handling the sale for him, and the place is already sold without a thing being said to me.”

      “Aaron, I’m so sorry.” She almost reached out to touch him before realizing that might not be the best of ideas. “It’s hard to believe Matt Gibson would do that to you after giving you his assurance.”

      “Ja.” Aaron ground out the word, his strong jaw tight under the chestnut beard. “It was his business, but I certain sure never thought he’d go back on his promise like that. Still, he’s old and he’s been sick. Maybe he just forgot about it.”

      “Is it really too late?”

      “Preston says the papers are already signed. He apologized, but said Matt never mentioned a word about giving me first refusal. The place went to somebody from out of state.” He shrugged again, managing a smile. “Well, it’s God’s will, ja?”

      It was the normal Amish response when life didn’t go according to their plans. It was God’s will. “Maybe you’ll find a place for sale that’s even better.”

      “Nothing else is likely to be for sale along our road.” He didn’t sound optimistic. “Daad’s place isn’t big enough to support all of us, but with Gibson’s land we’d have been okay, and my mamm and sister could keep watching my girls.”

      “I know,” Sarah said gently. Aaron’s two little girls, Anna and Lena, were the center of his life since Mary Ann’s death, and of