The Prodigal Son Returns

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Questions for Discussion (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One

LaGrange County, Indiana

May 1936

A high-pitched scream forced Bram Lapp’s feet into a run even before his mind could identify the source. He raced up the dusty farm lane between a garden and a plain white house at the top of the sloping yard, and when the next scream sounded, ending in a terrified child’s voice yelling, “Ne, ne!”, adrenaline rushed in, pushing him faster. He knew that sound all too well—a child was in danger, terrified. Grim possibilities flashed through his mind.

Rounding the corner of the barn, Bram’s slick leather soles skidded sideways in the gravel. His feet found purchase, and he focused on the little girl crouched in front of him. A chicken flapped at the end of her outstretched arm, but her eyes were on the four draft horses looming over her. He dived toward her, letting his momentum carry him beyond the horses. Grabbing the girl in his arms, he rolled them both past the

dinner-plate-size hooves and slid to a halt at the edge of the grassy backyard.

Bram shoved the child off his chest onto the grass, spitting feathers from his mouth, trying to see past the squawking red hen in his face. Where was she hurt? She screamed even louder as he wrenched the protesting chicken out of her hands and tossed it behind him.

Wide brown eyes cut from the horses to his face and then back again, her screams turning to ragged crying. She tried to pull away, but he kept her close with a firm grip on her arm. If she was hurt, or bleeding, the worst thing she could do would be to run and hide somewhere. He’d seen enough of that with kids on the Chicago streets.

He brushed at the feathers caught in her disheveled brown braids. She no longer looked like a copy of the chicken that still scolded him from a distance, but the tears running down her face clenched at his stomach. He turned her to one side and then the other. No blood that he could see. She ignored his touch; her eyes were fixed on the horses behind his shoulder.

The rattle of the harness told him the horses were moving. Her eyes widened even more as she tried to pull out of his grasp, sucking in a deep breath. Before she could let loose with another scream that might panic the horses further, Bram did the only thing he could think of to prevent it. He clapped his hand over the girl’s mouth.

“What are you doing?”

The fury in the young woman’s voice registered at the same time as the pain in his hand as the little girl sank her teeth into him. He bit back a curse and released her. With a flurry of skirts, a slim Amish woman descended on them from nowhere and snatched the girl up in her arms. Holding the child close, she fixed her blue eyes on Bram, flashing a warning as she watched him scramble to his feet.

He’d rather face the wrong end of a tommy gun than this... Wildcat seemed to be the only word for her.

A wildcat who had no business being angry with him.

His answer barked out in Deitsch before he thought about it. “I was just saving that girl from being trampled by these horses, that’s all. What did you think I was doing?”

Was that a smile that twitched at the corners of her mouth?

“Those horses?”

Bram turned to look at the draft horses and noticed for the first time they were tied to a hitching rail. The near horse flicked a lazy ear at a fly, a movement that did nothing to quell his rising irritation. He spun back to the young woman and the little girl, who stared at him with one finger in her mouth.

“Ja, those horses. No matter how docile they seem, she could be hurt playing around them like that. She was screaming so loudly I assumed she had been.”

The woman caught the edge of her lower lip between her teeth and hitched the little girl around to her hip. The self-righteous soothing of Bram’s prickled temper stopped short at her nod.

“Ja, you’re right. She shouldn’t be near the horses at all. She panics like this every time she gets near them, but you didn’t know that.” She drew a deep breath that shuddered at the end. “Denki for helping.”

That shaky breath got him. Bram straightened his jacket and dusted off his gabardine trousers to give his eyes something to focus on. Her steady gaze demanded his apology, but he wasn’t about to admit he was sorry for saving the girl, was he?

When he looked up, her gaze was still on him, expectant, her blue eyes a sharp contrast to her brown dress. Even standing on a slight rise above him, her kapp barely reached the level of his chin, but he was defenseless.

“I’m sorry. I probably scared her as much as the horses did.”

This time he was sure her mouth twitched.

“Ja, probably.”

Then she did smile, lighting up her face in a way that would make those painted girls back in Chicago green with envy. Bram drew a deep breath. Who would have thought he’d find a beauty like this among these Plain people?

“Memmi,” the little girl said, “can I go find Grossmutti?”

“Ja, for sure.” The woman set the girl on the grass and watched her run to the back of the house.

Memmi? Bram’s thoughts did an about-face. She was married, a mother, and he had let himself get distracted by a pretty face, and an Amish one at that. He was here to buy a horse, nothing more.

“Is your husband around? I heard he had a horse for sale.”

The woman paused, the smile gone in a shadow. “I think you’re looking for my father. You’ll find him in the barn.”

Bram glanced toward the barn cellar door as she nodded toward it, but by the time he had turned to her again, she was halfway to the house. “Denki,” he called after her. She didn’t look back.

* * *

Ellie Miller fought the urge to run to the safety of the Dawdi Haus with four-year-old Susan, keeping her walk steady until she joined Mam at the clothesline behind the big house.

She had forgotten. An Englischer gave her a crooked grin, and she had forgotten about Daniel. How could something so innocent make her forget her own husband?

Something about that Englischer didn’t make sense...

Ach, he had spoken Deitsch. His suit and hat were Englisch for sure, with that bright yellow necktie, but where had he learned to speak Deitsch?

And that grin! Her breath caught at the whispery ache that wrapped around her chest. Daniel had smiled at her often, but without a mischievous dimple that winked at her. What was she doing even letting her mind remember that grin? He was just another Englischer.

Ellie pulled a shirt from the basket to hang on the line.

Ja, just another Englischer who spoke Deitsch and made her rebellious heart flip when he smiled.

“Who was that man you were talking to? If it was another tramp, there’s a piece of pie in the kitchen.” Mam’s voice drifted to her from the other side of the clothesline, where she was hanging the girls’ dresses.

“He wasn’t looking for food. He wanted to talk to Dat.” Ellie glanced at the barn, glad for Dat’s ease when it came to talking to outsiders. “There was something strange about him. He was wearing Englisch clothes, but he spoke Deitsch.”

Mam’s voice was calm, as if she heard Englischers speaking their language all the time. “Maybe he has some Amish friends and learned the language from them. Did he want to buy the gelding Dat has for sale?”

“What would he want with a horse?”

“I expect an Englischer might want a horse once in a while.” Mam pulled another dress out of the basket at her feet. “When I see them tear along the roads in those automobiles, I wonder why anyone would hurry that fast just to end up in a ditch.”

“Lovina’s neighbor only did that once.”

“Once is enough, isn’t it?” Mam pulled the loaded clothesline lower to look at Ellie. “A person can be in too much of a hurry at times. When do you have time to pray, or even think?”