Leah's Choice

Daniel suddenly felt his foot slip in a water-filled hole and he threw his hands out to try to regain his balance. At the same moment, Leah grabbed his arm to steady him, keeping him from falling onto his bottom. “Thanks,” he said as he righted himself, giving her a sheepish smile.

“Careful where you step,” she cautioned. “You’ll do Joey no good if you twist an ankle.”

Leah’s grip was strong. Being a farm girl, he supposed she must be used to lifting hay bales and chopping wood, but he still felt a little foolish. He should have been the one coming to her rescue.

Caroline giggled. “And watch out for the cow pies.”

“Plenty of those out here too,” Leah agreed, a hint of amusement in her voice.

“I’m good now.” Daniel pulled away his hand, telling himself he shouldn’t feel embarrassed. He’d have done the same for her, wouldn’t he?

Daniel had been glad when Samuel Mast had picked Leah to accompany his group.

“She knows these woods and fields,” Samuel had explained quietly to him. “We’re glad for your help, but it’s easy to get turned around out there if you don’t know where you’re going. You’ll be all right with Leah. She’s a sensible girl.”

Watching Leah in the dark, Daniel thought that it was probably a good assessment. She was dressed for the downpour in boots and a rain slicker and she’d brought her own flashlight. She was keeping the strong beam steady to light their way.

In spite of the confusion at the Grange, Daniel had noticed red-haired Leah right away. Not only was she particularly attractive, but he’d been struck by how worldly she’d seemed for a young Amish woman. Her starched white kapp and modest blue dress and cape had looked exactly like those of her companions, but Leah Yoder stood out among them. She maintained a certain poise he didn’t usually see in Amish women. It was immediately clear that she had a strong personality and was a take-charge type of person, all characteristics he admired.

Daniel remembered that when he was in Ohio recently, a cousin had talked at length about her Amish friend, Leah, from Delaware and the fun they’d had last summer at the county fair. He wondered if this could be the same Leah. It had to be. How many Amish Leahs could there be in Kent County, Delaware?

After all the search groups had been organized back in the barnyard, Samuel had suggested that each group choose a leader. Samuel had made a joke about Daniel not letting his girls get out of hand, and the other men had thought it funny.

Daniel ended up being the only man on an otherwise all-female team, but it didn’t matter to him. He’d promised his Aunt Joyce, Caroline and Leslie’s mother, that he’d look after them if they were allowed to help in the search. He had every intention of keeping his word, but once they’d left the barnyard, he suggested Leah take the leader’s position in the group.

“You don’t want to?” she’d asked. “I have to warn you, you might get some teasing from the men if they hear about it.”

“I’m not a country boy,” he’d explained. “It would be foolish for me to tell you where we should look for Joey. You know the area. Besides, I’d get us all lost in the dark, and search parties would have to come find us.”

Carolyn had chuckled. “He’s right, Leah. Daniel’s sense of direction isn’t that great. He got lost at Hershey Park with his church group.”

“I was only eight,” Daniel had protested. “And the whole family has teased me about it ever since.”

“Believe me,” Caroline had said. “We’re all safer if you lead the way, Leah.”

“All right,” Leah had agreed. “If you put it that way, but we may have to walk a long way and there will be fences to climb and briars to wade through.”

“Lead on, Sacagawea,” Daniel had said. “I promise not to wimp out.”

And here they were now, in the dark, in the rain, mud sucking at Daniel’s best leather shoes. His only pair of good shoes.

The pasture was huge. After they’d gone far enough that the house was only a small light in the distance, Caroline asked Leah if she knew how Joey had gotten lost in the first place.

Leah slowed her pace so that they could walk closer together. “Barbara—that’s Joey’s sister—told me that their mother had sent Abraham and Minnie to find their Jersey cow.”

“The Beachys must have a large family,” Leslie remarked.

“Fairly large.” Leah flashed the light across a hole to be sure they all saw it. “Joey has thirteen brothers and sisters.”

“So what happened in this hunt for the cow?” Caroline asked.

“Abraham and Minnie went out looking for Matilda,” Leah continued, keeping the flashlight beam steady ahead of them. “Watch out for that briar.” She pointed. “The spines are sharp enough to go through your clothes.”

“Who’s Matilda?”

“Matilda is the cow. Matilda hadn’t come in to be milked with the rest of the herd. Apparently she’s due to drop her calf in a few weeks, and Lydia was concerned about her. Pregnant cows sometimes wander off and hide, and a rainy April night is no place for a newborn calf.”

“Too cold, I suppose,” Daniel offered. He didn’t know a thing about cows, even less about cows having calves, but it seemed logical.

“True,” Leah agreed. “But more than that, there’s a pack of dogs in the neighborhood. Englishers like to drop their unwanted pets near our farms. I guess they think that we can take in every stray, but we can’t. It’s a real problem for farmers or anyone with livestock.” She sighed deeply. “There are four or five dogs in this particular pack. I doubt they were abandoned together, but they found each other. Left to fend for themselves, eventually even pets turn feral. They kill squirrels and deer and rabbits to live, but they find their way into barnyards. Penned animals are easier prey. My Uncle Reuben lost a milk goat to them this winter. I’m sure Lydia was afraid that if Matilda dropped her calf, the dogs would smell the blood and come after them.”

“Almost like wolves.” Leslie looked around fearfully.

“Could these dogs be a danger to a child?” Caroline asked.

“I hope not, but you never know.” Leah continued forward, lowering her head against the driving rain. “Anyway, Joey must have followed the bigger kids. When Abraham saw him, he was already angry with him because Joey had seen him accidentally spilling a bucket of milk this morning, and Joey had told their mother. Abraham got in trouble and, naturally, he blamed Joey, instead of his own carelessness.”

“Like my little brothers,” Caroline said. “They’re always getting into it. I never realized that Amish mothers had the same trouble.”

Leah chuckled. “We aren’t that different,” she reminded. “We may offer our prayers in a different form and dress differently, but kids are kids.”

“It’s like that all over the world,” Daniel put in. “But go on.”

“Anyway,” Leah continued. “It started to thunder, and Minnie got scared.”

“How old is she?” Leslie wanted to know.

“Minnie’s eight,” Leah said. “She started crying to go back to the house. Annoyed because they hadn’t found the cow and he still had chores to finish before dinner, Abraham told them both to go home. He told them he’d find Matilda himself.”

“But if Joey was with his sister,” Leslie said, “how did…”

“According to Minnie,” Leah went on, “Joey had gone only a short distance with her when there was thunder again and he decided that he wanted Abraham. He left Minnie to run back to his brother, leaving Minnie to think he was with Abraham, and Abraham believing Minnie had taken him back to the house. Abraham eventually found the missing cow, and drove her back to the barn, but he never saw Joey.”

“Was there a calf?” Caroline stopped to untangle herself from some tall weeds. The rain wasn’t making it easier for any of them. Instead of letting up, it was coming down harder, and they were walking directly into it.

“No, Matilda was just being a cow.” Leah slowed to wait for her. “They aren’t as smart as horses or dogs, and they can be a little hardheaded. Anyway, no one missed Joey until his place was empty at the dinner table. By then he’d been missing for nearly two hours.”

“Well, he’s got to be out here somewhere.” Leslie moved closer to Daniel. “There aren’t any bulls in this pasture, are there?”

“The Beachys don’t have a bull and the cows are all up at the barn.” Leah made a small sound of distress. “I can’t imagine being Joey’s age and out here alone. Wherever he is, he must be terrified.”

Across the field, Daniel could see flickering lights from other search parties’ flashlights, but they were too far away to hear the volunteers. The only sounds besides their own footsteps and voices were the rain falling, the wind and the occasional rustle in the grass. Every so often, they stopped and Leah called the boy’s name, but there was never an answer.

The house and barn were far behind them, and in the wet darkness, Daniel felt as though he was in a wilderness. He’d traveled all over the world, but he’d always lived in an urban environment. He was used to towns and teeming cities, airports and hospitals. He was at home in noisy bazaars and crowded neighborhoods where Arabic and Spanish and a dozen other languages were spoken. He’d learned to feel at ease on busy trains, buses and subways, but here he felt completely out of his element. How could they possibly find one small child in all this darkness? Joey could be anywhere.

It was no wonder the Beachy family had called for help. Daniel had been told that women from the Amish church were organizing a prayer vigil, and he knew that Dinah Rhinehart had asked the Mennonite women if they would do the same. Samuel Mast said that someone had notified the Delaware State Police. And in the farmyard, Daniel had heard talk of sending for search dogs.

“There are a lot of rumors flying around,” Leah said when they stopped to catch their breath. “One of the Beachy girls said that Joey had told her that a man in a blue pickup offered him candy at their mailbox a few days ago.”

Daniel and his cousins moved closer so that they could hear what she was saying.

“And Noodle Troyer told my brother-in-law, Charley, that Elmer, Joey’s brother, found Joey’s hat and one shoe in the mud beside a pond. But I don’t put much stock in that story, since it’s Noodle.” She cocked her head to one side. “He’s known for telling tall tales and making much out of nothing.”

Rain was running down the back of Daniel’s jean jacket, and his trousers were soaked. He wished he’d checked the weather report before heading north to Delaware from where he’d been speaking in Virginia—he could have used his raincoat right now. Leah was the only one who seemed to be properly dressed for a night like this. She had a hooded rain slicker that reached past her knees to her black rubber boots. Wide sleeves protected her arms and covered half her hands. Her flashlight was an expensive Maglite. His flashlight was a cheap one from the dollar store, and it wasn’t as bright. It needed new batteries; he remembered that now. But he didn’t always think ahead, a fault his father was quick to point out.

“Did you have time to stop home for your flashlight?” Daniel asked, giving his a tap.

“We always keep it in the buggy.” Leah offered a quick smile. “Just to be safe. And it looked like rain, so I threw boots and the raincoat in the back before we headed to the Grange to hear the speaker. My mother always told us girls to be prepared for anything whenever we left home.”

“She sounds wise, your mother,” Daniel said.

“Ya, Mam is smart. She’s the schoolteacher here in Seven Poplars. But she’s got a lot of common sense, too.”

“What else do you carry in case of emergencies?” Daniel asked. He was teasing her a little, but he was also curious. There were all sorts of things about Leah Yoder he wanted to know.

“I have flares in the buggy, too,” she answered, “but I didn’t see any need to bring those.”

“You don’t have a cell phone, do you?”

“Nah.” Leah shook her head, sending droplets of water flying. “Our church doesn’t permit them.”

“Don’t you have a phone, Daniel?” Caroline asked. “I keep telling Mom that I need one just as much as Leslie does.”

“I do have a cell,” Daniel admitted, “but it’s back in my truck. I forgot to charge it, so it wouldn’t be much use to us. But if Leslie brought hers…”

“I’ve got it,” Leslie assured him, patting the pocket of her coat. “And it’s charged.”

“We don’t have electricity so a cell phone wouldn’t do me much good,” Leah explained. “There’s a regular phone at the chair shop across the road from our house. We can use it to call the doctor or make important calls, but we aren’t allowed to have personal phones.”

Daniel liked Leah’s voice. It was clear and sweet, yet she had no trouble making herself heard above the rain. Leah had a slight accent, not German, but almost Southern. Her grammar and vocabulary were very good. Hearing her, no one would guess that she’d never completed high school. The Delaware Amish, he knew, sent their children to private church schools that ended with eighth-grade graduation.

“There’s a fence just ahead,” Leah said. “I thought maybe we should search the woods, but I see lights there so I think some of the other groups are looking there. If we cross the fence line, we’ll be on the Crawford sheep farm. The Crawfords are living in Dover while their house is being remodeled, and there’s a long lane from the road to the buildings.”

Using his little flashlight, Daniel located a fence post and three strands of barbed wire. “How do we climb over that?” he asked.

“We don’t.” Leah plucked at the top row. “But the wire isn’t tight. If one of us holds up that bottom strand, the others can crawl under.”

Daniel nodded, resigned to whatever it took to find the boy. He was already wet and cold, so what was a little mud? “I’ll hold the wire until you get through, and then one of you can hold it for me.”

The plan worked, but the ground was just as wet and uncomfortable as he thought it would be. He supposed that a six-year-old would have had an easier time getting under, if he’d come this way. But why would a child venture farther away from home rather than closer? He felt a sense of dread. What if the rumor about Joey’s hat and shoe discovered by the pond was true? Or, God forbid, the story about a stranger offering the boy a treat? Tonight could end in more than discomfort. It could be a real tragedy for the Beachy family and the whole community.

“Please, God,” he murmured under his breath as he wiggled the last few inches until he was clear of the barbed wire. “Be with this child. Hold him safe in the palm of your hand until we can get to him.”

“Ouch!” Caroline cried.

Daniel got to his feet. “What’s wrong? Did you hurt yourself?” He shone his flashlight on Caroline. She was holding her left hand out, and even through the rain, he could see that blood was oozing from a deep gash across her palm.

“Let me see,” he said. On closer inspection, he saw that the cut was ragged and about two inches long.

“Does it hurt?” Leslie asked.

“It stings.”

“That barbed wire is rusty.” Leah came to stand with them. “I hope you’re up-to-date on your tetanus shot.”

“She was vaccinated when she was little,” Leslie said. “Isn’t that good enough?”

“I don’t think so,” Leah said. “Irwin—he’s sort of my foster brother—stepped on a nail a couple of weeks ago and our doctor said he had to have a booster. She’ll probably need to have one, too, but it’s not an emergency. It can wait until tomorrow as long as she doesn’t need stitches.”

“I don’t think it needs stitches.” Daniel handed his cousin a handkerchief. “But Leah’s right. You should check with your doctor to see when you were last vaccinated. I’ve actually seen cases of tetanus. It’s not something to mess around with.”

Caroline wrapped his handkerchief around her hand, but the cloth turned from white to pink. “I feel like such an idiot. I thought I had hold of the wire, but it slipped through my hand.”

“I think you’d better go back to the house.” Leslie rested her hand on Caroline’s back. “Mom will want to have a look at this.”

“But I wanted to help.” Caroline’s voice quivered. “And now, I’ve caused all of you a problem.”

“Why don’t the three of you go back?” Leah suggested. “I want to check some sheds on this farm, but I’ll be fine. I know the way.”

Daniel reached out and pressed his hand over Caroline’s. “More pressure should stop the bleeding. Do you think you’ll be all right to walk back with Leslie?”

“Sure,” she answered. “It’s a cut hand, not a broken leg.”

“Leslie?” he asked. “You okay walking her back?”

“Sure. I’ll go with her. I hate to leave you guys, but I agree she shouldn’t go alone. What if she faints or something?”

Caroline made a sound of disbelief. “Have you ever known me to faint in my life? Stop making such a fuss. I’ll be fine. You stay and hunt for Joey with Daniel and Leah. I can go back myself.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Daniel adjusted his ball cap to try to keep some of the rain out of his eyes. “The two of you should go back together. No one should be out here alone. I’ll go with Leah.” He looked at Leah as it occurred to him what he was saying. Three girls and a guy was one thing. A guy and girl, in some cultures, was something entirely different. “Will you be in trouble if the two of us go on together alone? We’re not breaking any Amish rules, are we?”

“Nah,” Leah assured him. “It isn’t encouraged, a boy and girl alone together, but it’s not forbidden. We’re looking for a lost child. It’s not like we’re dating or anything.”

Caroline giggled.

Leah glanced at Caroline, then back at Daniel. “This kind of situation allows for exceptions to the rules. Besides, I haven’t officially joined the Amish church, so I’m sort of rumspringa. This is my running around time. The rules aren’t so strict for me.”

“So you don’t mind if I come with you?”

Leah shook her head. “I would be glad of your help. But we have to get going.” She looked out over the dark field ahead. “I have a bad feeling about this,” she said softly. “A really bad feeling.”

Chapter Three

Daniel watched as Caroline and Leslie’s flashlight beam grew smaller as they recrossed the big pasture beyond the barbed-wire fence. “I guess it’s just the two of us,” he said to Leah, raising his voice so that she could hear him above the sound of the rain and the booming thunder.

“Just the two of us,” she repeated. “Come on. This way. It doesn’t look as though this is going to let up.”

Not only wasn’t the downpour easing, it was getting worse. He glanced up as lightning zigzagged through the sky. It struck so close that he smelled the burnt grass when a bolt hit the ground. “Maybe we should think about looking for shelter,” Daniel suggested, not so much worried for himself as for Leah. “Just until the worst of this passes.”

“There’s a shed in the pasture beyond these woods where the farmer stores hay,” Leah shouted. “We can duck in there.” She began to walk faster, and he lengthened his stride to keep up with her.

Water was running down the inside of Daniel’s jacket, and his pants were soaked and muddy to his knees. Leah was wearing a skirt, so he knew she had to be colder than he was, even wearing her rain slicker. He couldn’t imagine any of his sisters out here in the dark and pouring rain with a strange man. The two still at home were both younger than he supposed Leah must be, but he doubted they would ever have the self-confidence that she seemed to have. Most girls, especially girls born with such outer beauty as Leah possessed, rarely showed the same strength of character.

A gust of wind shook the trees overhead and nearly knocked them off their feet. Daniel took Leah’s arm to steady her, and she made no protest. A night like this and a child lost in it? What must the boy’s family be going through?

Once, when his family was sightseeing in Barcelona, his younger brother, Matthew, had gotten separated from the rest of them during a festival. The streets were crowded, and eight-year-old Matthew spoke only a little Spanish. They’d notified the police and looked for Matthew for hours without finding a trace of him. Daniel remembered how pale his mother’s face had been, and yet, she’d remained calm. “Have faith, but don’t stop hunting for him,” she’d said. “God expects us to do our fair share.”

Their prayers had been answered. When his mother had returned to the bed-and-breakfast where they’d been staying, Matthew was sitting on the steps waiting. Earlier that morning, he had picked up a brochure in the hotel because it had red balloons on it. He’d stuck the folder in his coat pocket, and when he got lost, he’d asked a teenage girl for help. She’d studied English in school and was able to understand why Matthew was crying. Somehow, the girl had seen the brochure, read the address, and given his little brother a ride back to the B&B on the back of her bike.

“Lucky,” the policeman had said, when Daniel’s parents had reported Matthew as safe.

“Not lucky, but blessed,” Mother had insisted.

Daniel hoped that Joey Beachy would be just as blessed. He was even younger than Matthew had been, and the family still talked about the incident. Daniel missed his family, but he missed his little brother most of all. This would have been Matthew’s senior year in high school, but he’d moved to Canada with their mother, father and the three girls. Daniel hoped he’d have time to visit with them before he left for his new assignment.

Lightning flashed, closer this time, and Daniel felt a little better when they left the trees. The batteries in his flashlight were growing weaker, however, and the beam was a pale yellow light. “I think it’s going out,” he said to Leah, tapping the flashlight against his leg.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “Mine’s good.”

As if on cue, his flashlight went out. He smacked it against his leg, but it wouldn’t come back on.

“It’s okay. We’re almost there.” She pointed with her flashlight, and Daniel made out a dark outline of a wooden gate in the tall grass.

“I see it,” he shouted, shoving his useless flashlight into his jacket pocket. He didn’t have much hope that little Joey would be this far from the house, but once the worst of the storm passed, maybe they could double-back to continue their search.

They dashed the last few yards to the shelter. Leah shone her flashlight on the wooden gate and Daniel tugged it open. The first thing that he saw when he stepped into the shed was the pale frightened face of a small boy looking up at him.

“Joey!” Leah cried.

Little Joey Beachy sat on the ground with his arms around a shaggy brown-and-white goat. His eyes were red and swollen from crying; streaks trailed down his dirty cheeks. When he saw Leah, a cascade of fresh tears began to flow.

“Joey,” Leah crooned, setting her flashlight on a bale of hay. She dropped to her knees and gathered the child into her arms. “What are you doing here?” she murmured. “Your mam is so worried. Everyone’s been hunting for you.”

Joey began to sob. Daniel couldn’t understand what he was saying because the boy was speaking Pennsylvania Dutch. Leah switched to that language as well, leaving Daniel at a loss. He glanced around the low shed. It was too dark to see much, but the roof was sound, and it was a relief to be out of the downpour.

The goat got up and began bleating pitifully. Daniel didn’t know much about goats, but this one sounded as if it was in distress. Daniel’s wet coat clung to him. It was so soaked through that it gave little protection against the cold, so he took it off and draped it over a bale of hay. Then another sound, a feeble high-pitched squeak, caught his attention.

Leah must have heard the noise as well, because she turned her flashlight toward the source. Nestled in the hay was a baby goat. Daniel hadn’t noticed it before because it was black and nearly hidden in the shadows. The larger goat nosed at the little one, looked back at her midsection and began to bleat again.