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the barn to search for him. He’d never known his son to be so recalcitrant. What had gotten into him?

Setting his tools aside, Jesse stepped over the uneven ground and headed toward the house. It was long past lunchtime and he needed to take a break. Before they returned to the field, he’d fix him and Sam some sandwiches. While they ate, he’d explain the merits of hard work to his son and encourage the boy to do better. If he found Sam reading again, he’d have to punish him. It was his duty as an Amish father to correct poor behaviors. He’d reprimanded Sam once but the next time would require harsher action. And Jesse didn’t look forward to that. No, not at all.

“Sam! Are you here?” he called when he stepped inside the kitchen door.

No answer. He shouted again but still no response.

Turning, he walked out to the chicken coop and then to the barn. A large plop of moisture fell from the sky and struck him on the cheek. Yes, it was definitely going to rain.

He yelled again and again, to get the boy’s attention. But he couldn’t find him. Patches was missing too. Now that was odd. Where had Sam and the puppy gone off to?

Again, Jesse searched every room of the house. He peered into every stall in the barn, the shed and chicken coop. Where was his son?

And then, a thought occurred to him. Sam hadn’t spoken but Jesse knew he’d been upset by the scolding he’d given him that morning. Was it possible Sam had run away? And if so, where would the boy go?

Several heavy raindrops struck Jesse on the face and hand. Soon, the sky would open up its waterworks. And Sam would be caught out in this storm.

Jesse ran to the field, a surge of panic rushing through his veins. He unharnessed Blaze from the wagon and led the horse back to the barn where he hitched him up to the buggy. By the time Jesse steered the horse out of the farmyard, a light mist was falling steadily from the sky.

As he reached the county road, Jesse noticed the rain increased in intensity. Great, heavy drops of water smattered against the windshield of his buggy and he was grateful to be inside, away from the damp and the wind. But his son was out in this storm somewhere. Possibly frightened and cold.

Jesse wiped his brow, filled with trepidation. His six-year-old son was all alone. Hopefully, the boy had worn his hat and coat but it didn’t matter. Not if the child got wet. If Sam was out in this frigid air for very long, he could easily become sick. And that thought terrorized Jesse. Because he’d already lost the rest of his familye. He couldn’t lose Sam too.

Maybe the boy had walked over to the Fishers’ farm. Maybe he’d sought refuge with Becca. It wasn’t far. That’s where Jesse would check first. He hoped and prayed his son was inside her house, safe and warm. Because Jesse refused to contemplate anything less. He had to find his son. He had to find him right now!

Becca clicked her tongue and urged her cousin’s horse onto the county road. Driving the buggy, she’d left the town library and was eager to get home. It was late afternoon and several heavy raindrops thumped against the windshield. It was just a matter of minutes before it started pouring cats and dogs. Though she hadn’t wanted to go into town this Saturday, her trip had been fruitful. Sitting beside her on the cushioned seat was a terrific book on skits that would help augment the year-end school program. She’d also checked out several new books for Sam. Wouldn’t he be surprised when she gave them to him on Monday morning at school? He’d read all the other books she’d given him at least twice already.

More raindrops spattered the window and she blinked, thinking her eyes deceived her. Was that Sam walking along the side of the road? He was all alone, his shoulders hunched against the drizzling rain, his head bowed low beneath his black felt hat. Definitely an Amish boy. She couldn’t see his face clearly but knew Sam’s body build and the way he walked.

Tugging on the lead lines, she pulled the horse over onto the shoulder of the road. The boy sidestepped the buggy and looked up in surprise. She saw that he was carrying Patches, his little black dog, in his arms. He was trying to shield the pup from the driving rain.

What on earth was he doing out here all alone on this busy road in the freezing rain?

She opened the door and called to him. “Hallo, Sam. Where are you going?”

He shrugged and blinked in the rain as he scuffed his booted foot against a rock. Patches squirmed in his arms and the boy tightened his hold. His cheeks were rosy from the cold air and he hunched his back against the lashing wind.

“Do you need a ride?” she asked.

He hesitated, then shook his head. But that didn’t deter her. This boy was always quiet but she’d learned to read his mannerisms. He was cold and upset. From his red eyes, she could tell he’d been crying. And then, she noticed a little bag slung across his shoulder. A plethora of questions hammered her mind all at once. Was he running away? And why would he do that? Where was he going? Did Jesse know?

Regardless, a six-year-old boy was too young to be out in this rain all alone.

The deluge increased, beating against them like a drum. It gave her the incentive to force her hand.

“Sam, get in the buggy, please. You don’t want Patches to catch a bad cold, do you?”

Her reasoning got through to the boy. Thankfully, he did as she asked. If she was reading his expression correctly, it was one of relief. And no wonder. When she opened the door wide and he

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