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.
“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
