warning.”
“No problem.” Hank turned to take in the children behind him. The three girls stared, their eyes round as whoopie pies. Simon was nowhere in sight. “Ladies … aren’t you getting cold standing out here?”
“Ya, but we don’t want to miss anything,” Ruthie said. The voice of honesty.
“You’re not missing anything,” Hank said wryly. “The best part of this show is the flashing light on the cruiser. Did you girls have a good day at school today?”
The twins nodded politely.
Ruthie stepped right up to the big man and folded her arms across her chest. “Are you going to put someone in the jailhouse?”
Straightening to his full height, Hank dwarfed Ruthie, but his voice was gentle when he spoke. “We save the jailhouse for the really bad guys. So far today, it’s empty.”
She sucked in her lower lip and nodded, satisfied for now.
Pebbles crunched underfoot as Adam walked Hank back to the cruiser.
“You let me know if any unwanted visitors come knocking on your door. There are laws against trespassing.”
“My father used to say that God gave us plenty of farm to shield us from Englishers.”
“He had a point there. And in my experience, the reporters seem to know where they don’t belong. I don’t think they’ll invade your privacy here.”
“Thank you, Hank.” Adam extended his hand for a handshake, an inadvertent slip back into the gestures of the English.
The sheriff shook his hand firmly, then climbed into the vehicle.
Watching the cruiser disappear beyond the bare beech trees, Adam realized he was getting cold. He’d left his coat and hat by the woodpile.
“Did you see his gun?” Leah asked, her face a small pale patch beneath her kapp and scarf.
“I wonder if he’s ever used it.” Susie’s voice was breathless with high drama. “You know, it’s for hunting people, not animals.”
“Why was he here?” Ruthie demanded.
“Sheriff Hank wanted to warn us that there might be some reporters around for the next few weeks,” Adam explained, looking around for Simon. “He says they’ve called him, asking questions about Mamm and Dat. We’ll talk more about it later, but in general, we’re to watch out for photographers and reporters.”
“Kinder!”
Mary called from the door. “Kumm.”
“I hate when she calls us children,” Ruthie said, her forehead creased with concern. “I am eleven years old, not a baby anymore.”
“You all need to go inside,” Adam said. “But where’s Simon?”
“Die Scheune,”
Ruthie answered. The barn. “He got scared of the flashing light, I think.”
Adam split away from the girls and jogged to the horse barn, glad for the movement, which warmed his freezing body. Inside the barn a deep voice lingered on a few notes and Adam recognized one of the hymns from the Ausbund, the songbook used in preaching services. He followed the source of the song to a stall, where Gabriel was spreading fresh hay with a pitchfork.
“Have you seen Simon?” he asked.
Although Gabe kept singing, he paused from his chore and jabbed the handle of the pitchfork toward the loft overhead.
“Denki,” Adam said quietly, moving toward the ladder. “Simon?” he called, not wanting to startle the already frightened boy. “Are you up there?”
He paused on the second-to-the-top rung and listened. The only sounds were Gabe’s voice and the scrape of the pitchfork as he shoveled in time with the hymn.
“Simon?” he tried again.
“Was ist letz?”
When he said the phrase, in his mind he heard his mamm’s voice and thought of the countless times she had come to console him when he was a boy Simon’s age. “What’s wrong, dear Adam?” she would say, folding him into her arms. “What’s the matter?”
Gripping the worn wood of the ladder, he felt a surge of anger that Simon didn’t have Mamm to comfort him. Instead, he was stuck with Adam, who knew next to nothing about children. A man so pitifully prepared for fatherhood, he
“No problem.” Hank turned to take in the children behind him. The three girls stared, their eyes round as whoopie pies. Simon was nowhere in sight. “Ladies … aren’t you getting cold standing out here?”
“Ya, but we don’t want to miss anything,” Ruthie said. The voice of honesty.
“You’re not missing anything,” Hank said wryly. “The best part of this show is the flashing light on the cruiser. Did you girls have a good day at school today?”
The twins nodded politely.
Ruthie stepped right up to the big man and folded her arms across her chest. “Are you going to put someone in the jailhouse?”
Straightening to his full height, Hank dwarfed Ruthie, but his voice was gentle when he spoke. “We save the jailhouse for the really bad guys. So far today, it’s empty.”
She sucked in her lower lip and nodded, satisfied for now.
Pebbles crunched underfoot as Adam walked Hank back to the cruiser.
“You let me know if any unwanted visitors come knocking on your door. There are laws against trespassing.”
“My father used to say that God gave us plenty of farm to shield us from Englishers.”
“He had a point there. And in my experience, the reporters seem to know where they don’t belong. I don’t think they’ll invade your privacy here.”
“Thank you, Hank.” Adam extended his hand for a handshake, an inadvertent slip back into the gestures of the English.
The sheriff shook his hand firmly, then climbed into the vehicle.
Watching the cruiser disappear beyond the bare beech trees, Adam realized he was getting cold. He’d left his coat and hat by the woodpile.
“Did you see his gun?” Leah asked, her face a small pale patch beneath her kapp and scarf.
“I wonder if he’s ever used it.” Susie’s voice was breathless with high drama. “You know, it’s for hunting people, not animals.”
“Why was he here?” Ruthie demanded.
“Sheriff Hank wanted to warn us that there might be some reporters around for the next few weeks,” Adam explained, looking around for Simon. “He says they’ve called him, asking questions about Mamm and Dat. We’ll talk more about it later, but in general, we’re to watch out for photographers and reporters.”
“Kinder!”
Mary called from the door. “Kumm.”
“I hate when she calls us children,” Ruthie said, her forehead creased with concern. “I am eleven years old, not a baby anymore.”
“You all need to go inside,” Adam said. “But where’s Simon?”
“Die Scheune,”
Ruthie answered. The barn. “He got scared of the flashing light, I think.”
Adam split away from the girls and jogged to the horse barn, glad for the movement, which warmed his freezing body. Inside the barn a deep voice lingered on a few notes and Adam recognized one of the hymns from the Ausbund, the songbook used in preaching services. He followed the source of the song to a stall, where Gabriel was spreading fresh hay with a pitchfork.
“Have you seen Simon?” he asked.
Although Gabe kept singing, he paused from his chore and jabbed the handle of the pitchfork toward the loft overhead.
“Denki,” Adam said quietly, moving toward the ladder. “Simon?” he called, not wanting to startle the already frightened boy. “Are you up there?”
He paused on the second-to-the-top rung and listened. The only sounds were Gabe’s voice and the scrape of the pitchfork as he shoveled in time with the hymn.
“Simon?” he tried again.
“Was ist letz?”
When he said the phrase, in his mind he heard his mamm’s voice and thought of the countless times she had come to console him when he was a boy Simon’s age. “What’s wrong, dear Adam?” she would say, folding him into her arms. “What’s the matter?”
Gripping the worn wood of the ladder, he felt a surge of anger that Simon didn’t have Mamm to comfort him. Instead, he was stuck with Adam, who knew next to nothing about children. A man so pitifully prepared for fatherhood, he
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