“Maybe it’s time I got back into the game.” Miss Wittmer’s pretty face came to mind. He smiled wickedly at Mrs. Greene. “Maybe I should find me a nice Amish woman.”
Mrs. Greene’s eyes flared wide. She waved her hand in dismissal. “Don’t be getting any crazy thoughts. The Amish don’t take to the English. Not for datin’.”
Spencer felt a smile pulling on his lips. He walked over and tapped Mrs. Greene’s knee. “No, no crazy thoughts. I’ll just stick to my job.”
And his job was to make sure nothing happened to Miss Wittmer and her two nieces out there on the Lapp farm. Until he had John Lapp in custody, he feared he wouldn’t be getting much sleep.
He couldn’t screw this up. Not like he had let down Daniel, the teenage boy in Buffalo who had ended up another grim statistic. He wouldn’t let that happen again. Not on his watch.
Hannah slipped back into the house after visiting her mother in time to find Emma coming down the stairs in her sleeping gown, one hand on her doll, the other fisted and rubbing her eyes. Sarah came down only when it seemed hunger had gotten the best of her.
After feeding her nieces breakfast of, in their opinion, too-lumpy oatmeal and runny dippy ecks, Hannah had the girls get dressed then ushered them outside. She needed to check on the farm animals and thought perhaps the outdoors would brighten the young girls’ dispositions.
Hannah reached the door of the barn as the sun was haloing the roofline of the gray, weatherworn barn. Sarah and Emma seemed content to plop down on the slight incline leading toward the barn and drag long strands of grass through their fingers. As long as the young girls stayed close to the barn, there was nothing they could get into. The freedom the Amish children had to explore was far different than the constantly monitored existence of English children.
A little voice in her head warned her that her non-motherly way of thinking was likely to get her—or her new charges—into trouble. She considered taking each by the hand and advising them to stay close, then decided it was best not to draw attention to her slipping into the barn to check on the animals.
With two hands, she peeled back the door and stepped inside. The familiar smell of manure assaulted her nose even though the barn had been swept clean yesterday for her sister’s funeral. She lifted her apron to her nose, wondering how she had ever gotten used to such a foul smell. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Emma and Sarah kicking a volleyball back and forth. Their long blond hair dangled down their backs.
The morning light filtered through the slats of the barn. The cow mooed as if happy to see her. A neighborhood boy, Samuel, had come over both in the mornings and afternoons to milk the cow and feed the horse the past few days. Samuel had told her he couldn’t come this morning, but he’d be available this afternoon.
Planting her hands on her hips, she let out a heavy sigh. Even though John’s move away from farming for a living had been a point of contention for her sister, Hannah was grateful. Now she only had to worry about a few animals and no crops. Seemed a shame, though, considering all this land her family’s property sat on.
Hannah grabbed a milking stool and sat. She glanced at her soft hands, now foreign to the rigors of physical labor. A shadow crossed the open door, and Hannah’s hand immediately went to her head. She had taken the time to twist her hair into a messy bun, but she wasn’t wearing her cap.
“Gut morning.” The words flowed naturally from her mouth. She held up her hand to block the sun as a man strolled into the barn.
“Morning, Miss Wittmer.” The casual, warm greeting brought her up short.
“Sheriff Maxwell.” Hannah drew in a deep breath and found herself wishing she had on her English wardrobe complete with a little eyeliner and smoothing hair gel. She lowered her hand and forced a smile. “We have to stop meeting like this.”
“Call me Spencer.”
“Then you’ll have to call me Hannah.” She scrambled to her feet then looked past him to see her nieces hanging on to the door frame, studying the visitor.
“Go back to playing, girls. The sheriff won’t be here long.”
“No, I won’t.” Spencer shifted his stance. “Is there anyone who can take care of the animals for a while?”
“Why?”
“I think it would be safer if you and the girls left the farm for a while. Until we get this all sorted out.”
“I can’t pick up and leave.” She lowered her voice and leaned closer to him. “This is the only home my nieces have known. They lost their mother. And my mom lives next door...and I don’t know offhand who could care for the animals full-time.” Her brain swirled with all the responsibilities.
“Sounds like you have a lot of reasons to stay.”
“I have a lot to figure out.” Outside the barn, her nieces returned to their seats on the grassy incline and plucked long blades of grass and twisted them around their fingers.
“Maybe you can find other family to stay with the girls until we locate John and figure out what’s going on here.”
“My sister was all I had. As far as reaching out to other Amish families, I won’t be welcomed.”
“I’m sure a family would welcome your nieces.”
His words felt like a knife stabbing her heart. “I’m not going to leave my nieces.” She had promised her sister she’d make sure the girls were cared for. Hannah couldn’t run away.
Spencer studied her with unnerving intensity. Then he snapped out of it and jerked his thumb toward the cow. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your morning chores. You can milk a cow?”
She laughed, genuinely laughed, for the first time since she had received word of her sister’s death. “I’m certainly capable of milking a cow or two.” She tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “This is the first morning I’ve had to deal with farm life since I arrived. I’m facing one thing at a time. First my nieces, then the farm animals.”
“All God’s creatures.”
Hannah stared at him for a minute. The smile lines at the corners of his eyes softened all his features. Yet his broad chest and solid arms would intimidate any criminal. She scooped up a metal bucket, fully aware that he was watching her. “An Amish boy has been helping me. That’s one thing you can say about the Amish. They always look after their own.”
“They do.” The two simple words held more weight than she dare explore.
She shifted the solid milking bucket from one hand to the other. She patted the backside of the cow, running her hand over its coarse fur. “How do you feel about a city slicker milking you?” The cow shuffled its back feet and let out a deep moo that vibrated through her chest. Hannah patted the animal again. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Hannah pulled up a stool and straddled it. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Spencer standing close. Did he doubt her abilities? Inwardly she laughed. What did he know about farm life?
