horse again. Taking 19 west, he came to the intersection where County 58 dumped out into the Doughty Valley, west of Panther Hollow. The bishop stopped the buggy again, on the flat bridge over Mullet Run. He looked up at the blue sky overhead, and then let his eyes drift down to the stream coursing under the bridge.
Cal asked, “Who will get John’s property, now that he’s gone?”
Raber answered, “Who would expect an eighteen-year-old boy to have written out a will?”
“Would his father try to keep the tractor?”
Raber shook his head and said, “I have decided to rule out tractors. Whatever the hardship, we have got to go back to the land. To tend the land as our fathers did. No, tractors are out. When harvest comes, we’ll help each other bring in what crops we can, and then the English can take the rest for a price. Next year, we’ll plant only what we need.”
“John Schlabaugh blazed quite a trail through your district, Irvin.”
Raber nodded sternly. His fingers tightened on the reins. With ire, he said, “I’ve still got kids at risk. As if it weren’t already bad enough, nobody has seen young Abe Yoder for over a week.”
“Irvin, I’d like to talk to the other kids in Schlabaugh’s gang. And we’ve got to find Sara.”
“Some of the younger Yoder boys saw her drive off with two English.”
“That’s not quite right, Irvin, and I suspect you know it. What I heard the boys tell Miriam was that those men forced her car off the road and pushed her into the back of a white SUV. I phoned the sheriff immediately, and they’ll have been looking for her all this time.”
Raber shot Cal an alarmed look. Troyer held the bishop’s gaze sternly.
Raber said, “You’re right, Cal. I got pretty much the same story earlier.”
Gently, Cal said, “Irvin, you’ve got to start trusting the law. You can’t fix this on your own. It’s too complicated.”
Raber took the whip that was clipped to the side of the buckboard and tapped out a faster pace for his horse. “I didn’t know what to do, Cal.”
“It’s a mistake to think that the law is always against you, Irvin.”
“We are descended from those who were persecuted in the old countries, Cal. In our time, we will be persecuted, too, even in America. All our martyr hymns teach us to distrust secular authority.”
“Sara has been abducted, Irvin,” Cal said forcefully. “Sheriff Robertson is her best chance for a rescue.”
Irvin groaned, “It’s not that simple. We are devoted to self-sufficiency. To our separated lives. Letting the sheriff into our world cuts against the grain.”
“You’ve got to start trusting people, Irvin,” Cal said softly. “You need the help.”
Raber implored, “How, Cal? Tell me how.”
“For one thing,” Cal said, “you could round up those kids. Under the circumstances, I doubt any of them would balk. You could tell them all to talk with the sheriff. Tell him everything they know that could help find Sara. Then you could get the Schlabaugh family, or one of those kids, to let the sheriff into John Schlabaugh’s trailer back there.”
“How’d it get to be this bad, Cal?
“Maybe your families have let the Rumschpringe go too far.”
“Then that’d be my fault,” the bishop said. “I hold the ultimate authority. You know that, Cal. But the kids have to be free to test the English world. Otherwise, they won’t know for sure that they want to be Amish for the rest of their lives. They won’t come to their faith through an honest repentance.”
“Maybe they don’t all need to see the world before they know they want to live Amish.”
“It’s not like we kick them out of a buggy in front of a town bar, Cal.”
“I know. And I’m not saying you do. But now, you’ve got to accept some help. Trust the sheriff, Irvin. Start by helping us find Sara and Abe Yoder. We’ve wasted too much time as it is.”
8
Friday, July 23
12:25 P.M.
RICKY NIELL was on foot, going from
Cal asked, “Who will get John’s property, now that he’s gone?”
Raber answered, “Who would expect an eighteen-year-old boy to have written out a will?”
“Would his father try to keep the tractor?”
Raber shook his head and said, “I have decided to rule out tractors. Whatever the hardship, we have got to go back to the land. To tend the land as our fathers did. No, tractors are out. When harvest comes, we’ll help each other bring in what crops we can, and then the English can take the rest for a price. Next year, we’ll plant only what we need.”
“John Schlabaugh blazed quite a trail through your district, Irvin.”
Raber nodded sternly. His fingers tightened on the reins. With ire, he said, “I’ve still got kids at risk. As if it weren’t already bad enough, nobody has seen young Abe Yoder for over a week.”
“Irvin, I’d like to talk to the other kids in Schlabaugh’s gang. And we’ve got to find Sara.”
“Some of the younger Yoder boys saw her drive off with two English.”
“That’s not quite right, Irvin, and I suspect you know it. What I heard the boys tell Miriam was that those men forced her car off the road and pushed her into the back of a white SUV. I phoned the sheriff immediately, and they’ll have been looking for her all this time.”
Raber shot Cal an alarmed look. Troyer held the bishop’s gaze sternly.
Raber said, “You’re right, Cal. I got pretty much the same story earlier.”
Gently, Cal said, “Irvin, you’ve got to start trusting the law. You can’t fix this on your own. It’s too complicated.”
Raber took the whip that was clipped to the side of the buckboard and tapped out a faster pace for his horse. “I didn’t know what to do, Cal.”
“It’s a mistake to think that the law is always against you, Irvin.”
“We are descended from those who were persecuted in the old countries, Cal. In our time, we will be persecuted, too, even in America. All our martyr hymns teach us to distrust secular authority.”
“Sara has been abducted, Irvin,” Cal said forcefully. “Sheriff Robertson is her best chance for a rescue.”
Irvin groaned, “It’s not that simple. We are devoted to self-sufficiency. To our separated lives. Letting the sheriff into our world cuts against the grain.”
“You’ve got to start trusting people, Irvin,” Cal said softly. “You need the help.”
Raber implored, “How, Cal? Tell me how.”
“For one thing,” Cal said, “you could round up those kids. Under the circumstances, I doubt any of them would balk. You could tell them all to talk with the sheriff. Tell him everything they know that could help find Sara. Then you could get the Schlabaugh family, or one of those kids, to let the sheriff into John Schlabaugh’s trailer back there.”
“How’d it get to be this bad, Cal?
“Maybe your families have let the Rumschpringe go too far.”
“Then that’d be my fault,” the bishop said. “I hold the ultimate authority. You know that, Cal. But the kids have to be free to test the English world. Otherwise, they won’t know for sure that they want to be Amish for the rest of their lives. They won’t come to their faith through an honest repentance.”
“Maybe they don’t all need to see the world before they know they want to live Amish.”
“It’s not like we kick them out of a buggy in front of a town bar, Cal.”
“I know. And I’m not saying you do. But now, you’ve got to accept some help. Trust the sheriff, Irvin. Start by helping us find Sara and Abe Yoder. We’ve wasted too much time as it is.”
8
Friday, July 23
12:25 P.M.
RICKY NIELL was on foot, going from
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