A Sister's Test by Wanda E. Brunstetter

and Grace’s house, and the men turned toward the woodworking shop.

    Martha paced in front of her mother’s garden, anger bubbling in her soul. “Something needs to be done about this.”
    Ruth knelt on the grass and let her head fall forward into her outstretched hands. “I have a terrible feeling that I’ll never marry Martin—that something will prevent our wedding from taking place.”
    Martha dropped down beside Ruth and gave her a hug. “Maybe I should go out to the shop and talk to Dad again—try to convince him to phone the sheriff.”
    “Sheriff Osborn knows about some of the other things that have happened here, and what good has that done?”
    “He said he’d keep an eye on things.”
    “True. But he can’t be watching our place all the time.”
    “Even so, I think Dad should let the sheriff know about these recent happenings.” Martha rose to her feet and was about to walk away, when Sheriff Osborn’s car pulled into the driveway. It stopped beside her father’s shop, and the sheriff got out of the car and went inside.
    “Now that’s a surprise,” Ruth said. “I wonder what he’s doing here.”
    “I’m going to see what the sheriff has to say.” Martha sprinted toward the shop, leaving Ruth sitting on the grass by herself.
    “Got a call from one of your neighbors,” Martha heard the sheriff say when she stepped into the shop a few minutes later. “They said someone had written something threatening on the side of your barn.”
    “Don’t tell me. Ray Larson called. He was probably checking things over with those binoculars of his. After that first round of attacks against us several months ago, Ray’s wife said she would ask him to keep an eye on things.” Dad folded his arms and grunted. “I never thought that was necessary, though.”
    Sheriff Osborn shrugged. “The caller didn’t identify himself. Just mentioned seeing the writing on your barn.”
    “There was more done than that,” Martha announced as she closed the door behind her. “Somebody put weed killer on my mother’s vegetable garden, and now everything’s ruined.”
    Dad shot Martha a look of irritation. “What are you doing out here, girl?”
    “I saw the sheriff’s car pull in, and I wanted to see if he knew anything about what’s been going on here lately.”
    Sheriff Osborn tipped his head in Dad’s direction. “Has something happened besides the message on the barn and the garden being ruined?”
    Dad waved a hand. “It wasn’t much. Just a stink bomb thrown into the barn, and some toilet paper draped all over our buildings.”
    “Sounds like whoever bothered you before might be at it again.” The sheriff pulled a notebook and pen out of his shirt pocket and began writing. “When did you say these other things happened?”
    “A couple weeks ago,” Dad answered.
    “Did you see anyone lurking around the place before or after the incidents?”
    “Nope.”
    “Just Ray Larson.” Cleon spoke up from across the room, where he’d been quietly working on a set of cabinets. “I spotted him walking up and down our fence line the day before the stink bomb happened. His binoculars were hanging around his neck.” He shrugged. “I figuredhe was out looking for some unusual birds.”
    “How come you never mentioned this before?” A muscle in Dad’s cheek twitched.
    Cleon shrugged again. “Didn’t seem important at the time. It just came to mind now, when the sheriff asked if we’d seen anyone hanging around the place.”
    Martha stepped between the sheriff and her father. “There’s no way Ray Larson could be responsible for any of the things that have been done to us.”
    “How do you know?” the sheriff asked, turning to face her.
    “I just do. Ray and Donna are good neighbors. They often drive us places we can’t go with the horse and buggy, and they bought one of Heidi’s pups.”
    The sheriff arched one eyebrow and stared at Martha as if she’d taken leave of her senses. “I hardly