as an infant and have raised him since then. That’s all he would say.”
“Should be easy enough to find out who she was,” Caroline volunteered. “Doesn’t sound likely she was Amish.”
“No, and that could mean her folks would be more willing to talk about Jonah,” Cal observed.
After a moment in thought, Branden said, “It’s unusual for the bishop to have approached Englishers for help. And I agree with Caroline. Why come to us instead of the police?”
“That’s not out of line at all. They’d be unlikely, whatever the circumstances, to involve the police,” Cal said, and eased himself back down into one of the white wicker loungers.
“If you push this concept through to its logical extreme, this is a kidnapping case,” Caroline said. “It’s not just a ‘grand summer away with father.’”
“Their distrust of secular authority runs deep,” Cal said. “It’s part of their suspicion of outsiders. And governmental authorities are the most suspect of them all.”
Branden stood, paced to the far end of the porch, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and said, “I still don’t see a compelling reason for them to have come to us.”
“Perhaps one summer out in the world is more than they think the boy can handle,” Caroline offered.
“Yes, but there’s got to be more to this case than Miller’s let on,” Branden said.
“We’ll get little more out of him at this point,” Cal said. “We’ve already been told more than I would have expected.”
Branden said, “Then we’ll have to find out more from other sources, obviously.”
“That’ll take some time,” Cal said.
“There really isn’t much time left at all, when you consider what a cold start we’ll have finding Jonah,” Branden said. “The bishop gave it a month. Said something like ‘a month from now and it won’t matter anymore.’”
“He said the same thing to me,” Cal told Caroline.
“Before what?” Caroline asked. “If you believe the note, at the very worst, the boy’ll be gone for the summer and then brought home for harvest.”
They each fell silent and thought, Cal and Caroline seated, Branden pacing in front of the windows. Dense, billowing clouds had gathered over the valley. The afternoon breeze had grown chill.
Eventually, Branden said, “I keep coming back to the fact that the Amish, who insist on independence and self-reliance, have engaged the assistance of outsiders to solve what is essentially a family dispute over a boy.”
After a few quiet moments, Cal said, “We need to know more about the boy’s father, Jonah Miller.”
“How?” Branden said. “No one will talk to us about him.”
“No Amish will,” Caroline said. “But how about the authorities? Police, social services, schools, neighbors who are not Amish. Anywhere someone might have known Jonah E. Miller.”
“Or those who know Eli Miller,” Cal said.
“Good point,” Branden said. “Also the preachers and deacons in neighboring districts.”
“How about relatives of the boy’s mother?” Cal said.
“Maybe her folks have been in touch with Jonah,” Branden said.
“Good luck,” Cal said with obvious pessimism.
Branden stood at the windows for a while longer with his gaze focused on the distant hills, pale green under cover of gathering clouds.
Caroline asked, “Didn’t his teachers ask about Jeremiah?”
“The bishop told them he was needed on the farm,” Branden said.
Cal scoffed and then said, “I’ve got a few days yet. Maybe I can work on Amish folk who know the bishop. I might find one who’s willing to talk.”
“A few days before what, Cal?” Caroline asked, concern evident in her tone.
“Sorry, Caroline. Next week’s when I leave for the missions conference.”
“How long will you be gone?” Branden asked.
“A week. Too long for me to be of much help to the bishop. I’m hoping you’ll have it wrapped up before I’m back.”
“We’ll need your help, Cal,” Branden said. “Especially for talking with Miller’s neighbors.”
Troyer shrugged apologetically and said, “I’ve got half a week before I leave. I’ll get you started, Mike, but mostly you’re going to have to work this one yourself.”
“Then I’ll help,” Caroline said. “Teachers, newspapers, neighbors, that sort of thing.”
“Don’t you have a deadline on your book?” Branden asked.
Caroline shrugged and said, “I’ll do what I can, Michael.”
As they cleared the dishes, Branden added, “Just one more thing. I don’t know why, but the bishop has insisted on special conditions. He’s accepted our help only because he trusts that we’ll abide by those restrictions.”
He paused to let his words have effect and then said, “We can’t let on to anyone that the boy is being held against his will. Or that he might be harmed. We are especially not to tell the law that Jonah has Jeremiah. He only wants us to investigate whether or not the boy and his father can be found. If they can be found, we are supposed to decide, without approaching the father, whether or not we think the boy can be returned to the family. I have also given the bishop my word that we will not attempt to take the boy from his father. We’re simply to locate the two of them, find out the boy’s condition, and advise the bishop. Nothing more.”
Caroline and Cal glanced curiously at each other and then at Branden, waiting for an explanation.
“For some reason,” Branden said, “the bishop is afraid to force the return of his grandson. If we can’t turn something up in the next few weeks, he’ll wait out the summer until harvest, rather than cause a ruckus now.”
“I don’t get it,” Caroline said. “Does he want the boy back or not?”
“His restrictions, for now, are quite specific,” Branden said. “We can look for the boy diligently, but we are not to make it appear that Miller is seeking to force the return of his grandson. He was very clear on this. Said something like, ‘For now, Professor, we must be very cautious. Just see if you can find him, and then let me know.’”
“To what end?” Caroline asked.
“I don’t know, exactly,” Branden said. “Maybe he just wants to make sure that the boy will be safe until harvest. And that’s all we can do. Maybe once he knows where the boy is, he’ll bring him home, himself. Keep it in the family. You know how clannish they
