by Alison Stone
Now, Paul, and his wife, Mary Elizabeth, owned the farm, his mother living with them in the dawdy haus. Paul’s brother Amos still lived there, too, but was rumored to be getting married soon. And her friend Amy had married an Amish boy and moved across town like a good Amish girl. Actually, Amy’s husband was the cousin of Elijah Lapp, the Amish boy who had been beaten by Deputy Reich. Elijah had ditched his car in front of Amy’s house in hopes of taking cover in their barn, or so the gossip went.
Such was life in a small town.
Becky shook away all the memories pelting her as she came to a clearing on the Kings’ property. She slowed and turned to look for her sister, who had fallen behind. The dog seemed content curled up in Mag’s arms despite being jostled as she ran to catch up.
When they reached the barn, Becky held up her hand. “Wait here while I look inside. I’m not going to hand the dog over this time without seeing the living conditions.” Most Amish kept their pets outdoors.
Becky pulled open the door and slipped through the small opening. It took her eyes a few minutes to adjust to the shadows. The smell of hay and manure, although unpleasant, wasn’t unfamiliar. She was grateful she was no longer responsible for mucking out the stalls. A little pang of guilt poked her because she had left her sister and brother behind to do her chores.
The guilt ebbed away as curiosity took hold. From the far end of the barn, she heard mewling sounds, as if a small animal or animals were in pain. Blinking, her eyes adjusted to the darkness.
Something moved in the shadows.
She pulled her flashlight from her belt and directed its beam toward the heartbreaking sound. The eyes of at least a dozen dogs in a small cage glowed under the light. She reeled back on her heels with a gasp.
“What are you doing in here?”
Becky spun around. Paul lifted his hand to block the light that hit his hardened expression under the wide brim of his straw hat. He gritted his teeth. “Get that out of my eyes, woman.”
Instinctively, Becky lowered her hand, but didn’t turn off the flashlight. Paul had a short fuse when things didn’t go his way. She remembered the sinking feeling she had as they discussed something regarding their future and his anger when she disagreed. He had fully expected her to be subservient as his wife. And why not? They both had grown up with similar role models in their homes.
Becky didn’t see that for her future. She had her own ideas. And from somewhere deep within, she had mustered the courage to leave. Sometimes she wondered how.
Resisting the urge to shine the beam back into his eyes to make a point, she gestured toward the door. “Come with me.”
She strode past him into the bright sunlight and around to the back where Mag was standing out of sight. “Why is this dog—any of those dogs—not being cared for?”
Some of the bluster disappeared as his mouth worked, but no words came. The uncertainty in his eyes made her believe that he didn’t know what to say. Perhaps he actually felt shame for the condition of the dogs.
“You didn’t answer my question. Why are you here?” Paul tried to regain the upper hand.
Surprisingly, Mag spoke up. “Your dog wandered over to my farm again. He came through the woods.” She spoke so softly she was difficult to hear above the dogs that had started barking in earnest at the commotion.
“This one keeps escaping.” Paul reached out to grab the dog from Mag’s arms. Mag pulled away and gave him her back, obviously determined not to relinquish the dog.
“I see stubbornness runs in the Spoth family.” Paul huffed and crossed his arms. “Give me my dog. You said yourself it came from my property.” It didn’t seem to register with him that this was the very same dog they had previously returned on two separate occasions. How many dogs did he have in that cage? How had this one been fortunate enough to escape on more than one occasion?
A look of terror—of realization—crossed her sister’s eyes and she took off running down the driveway, the awkward gait of someone holding on to something dearly as her gown slapped at her skinny legs.
“Mag!” Becky called out to her. She shared a brief exchange with Paul and an idea hit her. “I’m not going to hand over the dog like last time.”
Paul smirked, as if her threat was meaningless. “I think you have enough trouble not to go borrowing more.” His hard-edged stare made her speechless. “I read the papers. What are you going to do, beat me up?” He laughed, the sound scraping across her nerves. He held out his hand as if to touch her, and Becky stepped back, out of his reach. “You must be scrappier than I thought.”
Rage roiled in her gut, helping her find her voice. “Let me buy the dog,” Becky offered.
“What are you talking about?” Paul said, growing angrier. “Just leave. That’s what you wanted from the beginning, to leave the Amish, so don’t come back here in your uniform and try to tell me what to do. You have no say over me. You, of all people, should know that.” Paul strode down the driveway toward her sister. “She better give me that dog.”
Protective instincts kicking in, Becky rushed after Paul. “You will not take that dog from my sister. Do you hear me?”
Paul spun around and glared at her. Seizing the moment, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the two twenties she had stuffed in there before the start of her shift last night, before her world was once again upended. She never knew when cash would come in handy, for lunch, for someone down on his luck, or for offering her former boyfriend forty bucks for his dog.
“I’m buying the dog.” She jammed the money in his direction. “Isn’t that why you have so many dogs in a cage? To sell them? I’m buying this one.” That had to be the reason. The sheriff’s department had answered complaints regarding suspected puppy mills among the Amish, but she had never come across one. Mostly, she had hoped the reports were false. How could a kind and gentle people be anything but loving toward God’s creatures?
With a sour expression on his face, Paul swiped the money out of her hand. “Keep the dog. Now, get out of here.”
Becky stared at Paul for a long moment, as if trying to decide her next move. She didn’t have too many options legally right now because of her suspension, but he didn’t know that. Maybe the threat of intervention by the sheriff’s department was enough for him to clean up his act.
“Take care of those dogs. They need a clean, warm place to stay.” Becky pointed to the barn. “Someone will be out to inspect the animals in the next day or two.”
A muscle jumped in Paul’s jaw. “What did I ever do to you?” Like always, he tried to turn things around. Cast the blame elsewhere.
“Take care of those dogs,” she repeated, not bothering to soften the hard edge of her tone. The sun beat down on her, making her sweat. Becky hustled to catch up with her sister at the end of the driveway. Once there, she touched her sister’s shoulder. She could feel her trembling. “Come on, sweetie. The dog is ours.”
“Really?” Mag lifted her watery eyes. “But, what’s Mem and Dat going to say when I show up with a dog?”
“Don’t worry.” Easy for Becky to say when, in fact, Mag had a very good point.
Just then, she noticed Harrison’s patrol car pulling up on the side of the road. He must have been watching for them. He climbed out of the patrol car.
“Everything okay?” With a concerned look on his face, he gently petted the dog in her sister’s arms, as if inspecting it for injuries. This tender gesture touched Becky’s heart.
“Yes, it is for now.” She shot him a “we’ll talk about it later” look. Then she gently scooped the dog out of her sister’s arms. “I’ll take care of the dog. Once he’s all better, maybe Dat and Mem will let you keep him. Okay?”
“Okay,” Mag repeated quietly, not seeming so sure. Becky understood the feelings of helplessness and lack of control while on the cusp of adulthood, especially among the Amish.
&nb
sp; “I promise I’ll talk to our parents about the dog.”
Mag looked up with wide eyes. “Might be hard if they’re not willing to talk to you.”
Becky ran a hand down the dog’s matted fur. “One step at a time.”
Becky turned to steal one last glance at the Kings’ property. Paul had disappeared, but his wife, Mary Elizabeth, stood on the porch and stared at them, clutching something to her chest. A light breeze ruffled the Amish woman’s long dress. A whisper of something—nostalgia, déjà vu, relief, maybe?—made Becky tremble as a vision of what most certainly would have been her future flashed before her eyes. But it wasn’t her life. She had broken up with Paul. She had left the Amish, her family.
Yet, still, on this sweltering day, she couldn’t help but feel shadows of her past stretching out to claim her.
FOUR
Harrison cracked the windows on the patrol car, but kept the AC cranked up. Their newest passenger needed a bath and Harrison needed a little fresh air, but it was too hot to forgo the AC all together.
Harrison remained quiet after Becky had climbed into his patrol car. They watched her sister until the blue fabric of her dress was no longer visible from the road. Becky seemed satisfied that she had arrived safely home.
It was then that Becky told him about the dogs in deplorable conditions in a cage in the barn. She had convinced him to take her home and to worry about the animals later. That she’d figure something out. He imagined she had had enough for one day and it was barely midmorning.
He agreed.
For now.
It wasn’t until he got to the first intersection that he asked for directions to her house. Between cooing reassuringly to the dog on her lap, Becky pointed out where to turn. When they arrived at her house, she thanked him and got out.
Something about dropping her off without further comment didn’t seem right. He climbed out of the patrol car and strolled toward the porch where she struggled to hold the dog and fish out her door key from a bag slung over her shoulder.
“Do you need a hand?”
She seemed to regard him for a minute, before handing off the dog. He held his breath as the poor dog, through no fault of his own, smelled like...he couldn’t even put it into words.
He crouched down and set the dog on the porch. The dog seemed to know this was his chance and bounded down the stairs and across the yard. Becky turned around and made an exasperated sigh.
“Hold on, I’ll get him.” Harrison hustled down the steps and caught up with the dog when he thankfully slowed to sniff around a tree. “Come on, you. I don’t think you realize what a good thing you’ve got going here,” he muttered to the dog. “Anyone who takes in a mangy mutt like you has to have a good heart.”
When he looked up, he was surprised to find Becky standing a few feet away watching him. A hint of a smile whispered across her lips. She blinked slowly, exhaustion settling in around her eyes. “Thanks. I’ll have to call the vet and then see about getting a leash and supplies for my new friend. And a bath is in order, of course.”
“Listen, I have to get back on patrol, but I’d be happy to stop by after work. I know your car’s out of commission. I could drive you into town and pick up a few supplies for your new roommate.”
Becky rubbed her lips together as if she had just put on Chapstick. “I can’t impose. You’ve already helped me out a ton today.”
Harrison tilted his head. “I don’t mind.” He glanced around her house and property. She had a well-maintained Dutch colonial house with a large front porch set back among the trees on a wide stretch of property. “You’re kinda stranded out here until you get new tires.” He shrugged, trying to act casual. He wasn’t sure why getting her to accept his offer of help felt like a challenge. A challenge he wasn’t willing to lose. Becky was certainly not like the women he was used to dating. His ex-girlfriend was, well, the opposite of Becky, not that he was looking for a date. He supposed the need stemmed from his desire to help out a fellow officer while she was down and out.
That was all.
Something I should have done for my brother.
“You never realize how much you take your car for granted until you don’t have one.” She smoothed the matted fur on the dog’s head. “I do need supplies for...” She bit her lower lip. “I really should come up with a name for this guy.” The dog playfully chewed on her hand. Becky looked up and laughed. “Chewie?”
Harrison couldn’t help but smile. He hadn’t had a dog since he was a kid. Seemed like much simpler times. Back then his little brother had thought Spot was a good name for their dog who, for the record, didn’t have any spots. “Okay, Chewie, why don’t you and your owner get inside where it’s cooler?” He put a hand on the small of her back and led her toward the house. “I’ll be back at four. We can grab a bite to eat first.”
“Okay, as long as it’s not too much trouble.” He sensed Becky was giving him every possible out, but he didn’t want to take it. He didn’t like what had happened in the parking lot at work. If someone had the nerve to vandalize her car within a hundred feet of the sheriff’s department, what would they be willing to do at her isolated home?
Most men and women in law enforcement were good, honest, hardworking people, but it wasn’t unheard of for someone—out of a sense of misplaced loyalty, perhaps—to go after another person if they felt they had betrayed their own.
He wondered if this was the case now. Was someone getting back at Becky for testifying against a fellow officer? Or did this have to do with something else from her past? Harrison didn’t know her at all to make the determination. But he hoped he’d let her get close enough to find out.
“Running errands with you is no trouble at all,” he said as he glanced around her cozy house after she opened the door and they stepped into the small foyer. He hadn’t made the time to decorate his place, unless you counted a couch and a large-screen TV as decor. He took a step toward the door. “I better get back on patrol. Lock up.”
Becky paused and looked up at him. Something swept across her gaze that he read as a mix of confusion and perhaps a touch of fear. “Do you think that whoever nearly ran me off the road this morning or sabotaged my car would come to my home? I have no idea if the incidences are related, but I want to believe it’s someone blowing off steam. Right? Not someone with real malice.” Perhaps sensing the wistfulness of her words, she shifted to a more somber tone. “Ned Reich has been a deputy for a long time and he does have a lot of friends. Do you think they’re trying to get back at me for ruining his career?”
“You didn’t ruin his career. He’s responsible for that.”
Becky shrugged and wrapped her arms around her middle.
“It doesn’t feel right to me.” He debated how much to tell her, but at the same time, he reminded himself that he was talking to another law-enforcement officer, not a poor damsel in distress. He needed to be up-front with her. “It could be someone loyal to Ned. Maybe even his son. But you’ve had some negative press lately, too. So that extends the suspect pool. And if this new video is as bad as you say it is, it might lead to other people trying to take matters into their own hands. For all we know, this video could be going viral on the internet.”
All the color seemed to drain from Becky’s face. She touched her hand to her forehead. “Like a friend of Elijah Lapp’s?”
“Perhaps. It’s too early to tell.” Standing in the small foyer, he tapped the decorative finial on the railing post with his closed fist. “You need to be careful.”
“You’re right. I will be.” She pressed her hand to her duty belt as if she was checking for her gun that wasn’t there.
“They took your gun?”
“And my badge.” But he had a feeling she was more concerned about her gun right now.
“Do you have other firearms in your house?”
Becky jerked her he
ad back. “You really think I’m going to have to shoot someone?”
Harrison rubbed his jaw. “I don’t know what’s going on here. But a weapon might help you sleep better at night.”
She bent down and touched Chewie’s head. “I’ll sleep better once the truth comes out. I had nothing to do with the young man’s injuries.”
Harrison nodded and reached for the door handle, making a mental note that she had never told him if she had a personal weapon. “I’ll pick you up after my shift.”
* * *
Later that day, while Becky excused herself to wash her hands, Harrison stared out the front window of the diner overlooking the sidewalk in the center of town. It was one of those rare summer days in Western New York that could give cities south of the Mason Dixon a run for their money. Many families—both Amish and Englisch, as he learned he was called—were out in full force, despite the heat rolling off the cement.
He supposed it beat a foot of snow.
The charm of Quail Hollow was growing on him, but he doubted he’d stay here, or anywhere, for the long haul. When he took this job, he took it because he needed an out. An out from Buffalo. An out from everyone who was checking in on him. An out of his own head where all his mistakes replayed on a constant loop.
But so far, he had only managed to get away from his hometown and his well-meaning friends. His nagging thoughts and guilt, not so much.
His cell phone buzzed. Normally he’d ignore it since he was off duty, but he had set a few things in motion today that he wanted to follow up on. “Deputy James,” he said after accepting the call.
“Yeah, Harrison, it’s Timmy. I took a drive out to the Kings’ farm.”
“How’d it go?” Timmy Welsh, besides being a deputy, was assigned to animal control, a tricky job in a town where most of the animal owners didn’t want anything to do with law enforcement.