Read Online In the Land of Milk and Honey by Jane Jensen - Free Book Online

charm.”
    I laughed at his teasing and pulled away. “Well this scarlet woman is hungry. Anyway, I could have wings and be glowing and I’m not sure I’d fare much better when it comes to interviewing the Amish.” I plopped down in my chair and picked up my fork, then hesitated.
    Ezra sat down and looked at me. “Go on and eat.”
    â€œDid you . . . want to say grace?” There was always anawkward moment when we started a meal. I knew Ezra was used to saying grace, and I wasn’t. I sensed he missed it. It was in the way he always hesitated at the start of each meal. “It’s fine with me if you want to.”
    â€œNot sure what I’d say.” Ezra shrugged and frowned down at his food. As if to prove a point, he cut off a piece of chicken and took a bite. “Who were you interviewing today?”
    I sighed and let it go. “I stopped at about thirty farms between the Kindermans’ and the Hershbergers’.”
    â€œWhat’d you learn?”
    â€œNot much. No one else has been sick, and that’s great. That’s a relief. But when I, or Glen, ask to see their animals, or suggest they lay off the raw milk for a bit—”
    â€œGlen?”
    Ezra’s tone was merely curious, but I felt a guilty heat flush my neck. Damn it. I had nothing to feel guilty about. Yes, Dr. Turner was interested in me, but I hadn’t encouraged him. “Dr. Glen Turner. He’s, um, with the CDC. He met up with me this afternoon to help interview. Do you know they’ve scoured every bit of the Kindermans’ farm and haven’t found any trace of white snakeroot? Or any other source of the toxin, tremetol?”
    Ezra watched me with calm interest. “That’s good news. Not so?”
    â€œWell . . . yes. But that means we still don’t know where the toxin came from. And until we know that, it could show up somewhere else. It’s frustrating that nobody is taking this seriously. I mean, when we go to these farms and say we’re there to look attheir animals and make sure they’re not sick, you’d think we were threatening to shoot their cows or something.”
    â€œA man’s protective of his animals. He doesn’t like people thinkin’ he’s not taking good care of them,” Ezra pointed out. “And they don’t know you.”
    â€œBut people have died! And when I suggest they refrain from drinking their cows’ milk, just until we’ve figured out what’s going on, they get angry!”
    â€œElizabeth.”
    Ezra’s voice was calm but pointed. I realized I probably sounded a wee bit too intense. I took a deep breath and tried to relax. I’d felt like such an idiot this afternoon. It was one thing when the Amish farmers treated me like a strange and threatening creature, because I was not only English—an outsider—but a female and a police officer as well. But it was particularly embarrassing to be treated like a pariah on my home turf in front of a government agent like Dr. Turner.
    And that wasn’t even what really bugged me. I was frustrated about the case. My gut was telling me something was wrong. Hell, I’d walked through a farmhouse full of corpses, an entire Amish family dead after having no doubt suffered horribly. And most of the Amish acted like it had nothing to do with them. It was tragic but somehow “God’s will.” They would rather pray about it than take easy steps for their own protection. At least, that’s how it seemed to me.
    â€œSorry,” I muttered.
    Ezra picked up his glass of milk and held it up. “You don’tknow how it is. To the Amish, a man, his family . . . they don’t just buy this at market. They raise their animals like they raise their gardens. Eating the fruits of that labor is a blessing and a responsibility. You don’t let it go to waste. You don’t turn your nose