In the Land of Milk and Honey by Jane Jensen Page A

to hurt the farmers. Take it from me, the dairy animals in Lancaster County, particularly the ones on Amish farms, are some of the healthiest you’ll find anywhere. Almost all of them have access to fresh air and grass all year round. And they’re not fed cheap feed with fillers or hormones.” His voice shook with intensity. “My wife and I drink raw milk. You do know it’s tested by the state? Farms with raw-milk licenses are tested regularly for bacterial contamination.”
    I didn’t know that, actually. I was surprised it hadn’t been mentioned in the CDC debriefing. “Thanks for the information, Dr. Richmond. I can assure you, the CDC is working hard to determine where this toxin is coming from. No one wants to hurt the farmers, but we have to keep the public safe.”
    Dr. Richmond grunted and shut the back of his truck. “Then I hope you find it soon,” he said stiffly. He headed for the driver’s-side door.
    â€œDr. Richmond?” I pulled a card out of my pocket. Something about Richmond’s attitude didn’t sit well with me, but I gave him a polite smile. “Would you please ask around withother large-animal vets you know, see if they’ve seen any cases, or suspected cases, of tremetol poisoning? If so, we need to know immediately.”
    I’d ask Hernandez to call around to all the local vets too, but it couldn’t hurt to get Dr. Richmond trolling for us. He took the card and gave me a glance that was noticeably less hostile. “Of course. I’d like to help in any way I can. I’m sure all the vets in the area feel the same.”
    â€œThank you.” I turned on my heel and went into the barn.
    â€”
    I watched three CDC agents go over the Fishers’ cow stall taking photographs and samples. They wore paper face masks now, along with white coveralls, gloves, and booties, and they carried sheaths of plastic evidence bags on their hips, clipped onto a loop on their coveralls. The door to the pasture was now open, and most of the animals had disappeared. Only two cows, too sick to make their escape, remained in the stall. The one who’d been down before was still lying on her side, eyes half-closed, insensible to what was going on around her. It made me feel sick to see her. The pain of animals and children is always the hardest to bear.
    The encounter with Dr. Richmond worried me. If a vet who’d just treated these very sick cows was against the raw-milk ban, we were in deep trouble on the PR front. And that wasn’t the only problem. Levi Fisher hadn’t heard about the raw-milk warning, and we’d been working to spread that wordin the Amish community for several days now. Ezra’s famous “Amish grapevine” wasn’t working nearly fast enough. Which meant there could well be other families out there who were sick or dying.
    Elaine, the CDC agent I’d met earlier, started examining the feeding trough inside the stall. The trough was fixed to the other side of the half wall where I was standing. On my side, there were bales of hay and a chute from the upper story. It would be easy for the farmer to load the trough with feed without having to go into the stall. Elaine shined a high-powered flashlight over the old metal surface of the trough and leaned in to peer at it carefully.
    I watched her, but my mind was elsewhere.
This is the first case the vet has ever seen. Why here? Why now? How are they getting this damn plant?
    The DCNR agents were still out in the pasture. Would they have any more luck finding a toxic plant growing here than they’d had at the Hershbergers’ or Kindermans’? I hoped so, but I’d be surprised if they did.
    â€œDetective?” Elaine’s voice was serious.
    I was immediately alert. “Did you find something?”
    She motioned with her gloved hand for me to come closer. I took the few steps down the half wall and peered over the