Alison Stone - Plain Outsider

Their more recent exchanges had been over this very same dog. Paul obviously wasn’t caring for the animals on his farm. Perhaps since his father had died and Paul had become the sole man of the house, he had let things slide. However, this time she wouldn’t hand over the dog and leave. She wanted to see for herself what was going on at her neighbor’s farm.

“It’s okay, I’ll take the dog over and talk to him,” Becky repeated.

Mag held the dog closer, reluctant to let him go.

“Mag, I don’t have all day.” The sun rising higher in the sky was making her sweat in her deputy uniform. “Give me the dog and I’ll handle the situation.”

Mag lowered her eyes to the puppy nestled in her arms. “But if he takes the dog back, he won’t be cared for. Even dogs are God’s creatures.”

A sense of pride filled Becky. Her sister had far more spunk than she had at that age. However, she feared that kind of grit would get an Amish youngie in trouble more often than not.

Becky tugged on the hem of her untucked uniform shirt. She’d hate to see what she looked like after the day she’d already had.

And it was still early.

Becky touched her sister’s sleeve. “The truth is, since the dog belongs to Paul, it’s very possible that we’ll have to give him back. But there are laws against inhumane treatment of animals. I can...”

Her suspension. What could she really do while suspended?

“We’ll figure this out. But first, I need to see what’s going on next door. Give me the dog.” She smiled encouragingly. “Go home. I don’t want you to get in trouble with Dat .”

Mag jutted out her chin and pressed her lips together, the picture of defiance. “No, I’ll go with you. I’ll get back before Dat and Mem find out I’m gone.”

A little twinge of guilt zipped through Becky. She didn’t mean to encourage her sister to disobey her parents, but deep in her heart, she couldn’t imagine her parents would want to let the treatment of this dog to continue unchecked. Animal cruelty was the only way this dog could have sores on his body and matted fur. “Let’s hurry up, then, so you can get back to your chores.”

“Okay.” Her sister seemed to cheer up a bit. Big sister to the rescue.

Becky hoped she didn’t look as ruffled as she felt, but she wanted to make a serious impression on Paul. He needed to take better care of his animals. Maybe the threat of interference from law enforcement would make him fall in line, but somehow she doubted it. He’d seemed unfazed the last couple times she stopped over. The sheriff’s department walked a very fine line when it came to dealing with the Amish. They wanted to respect their right to live separately while making sure laws were followed.

Becky followed the small path that led through a crop of trees to the Kings’ house. Memories of a life lived so long ago came floating back. Memories she’d rather forget because they made her nostalgic. As a teenager, she used to run along this path to visit her friend Amy. And later when she started dating her friend’s older brother, Paul, back when she thought her life would be like her mem ’s and all the female ancestors before her.

Now, Paul, and his wife, Mary Elizabeth, owned the farm, his mother living with them in the dawdy haus . Paul’s brother Amos still lived there, too, but was rumored to be getting married soon. And her friend Amy had married an Amish boy and moved across town like a good Amish girl. Actually, Amy’s husband was the cousin of Elijah Lapp, the Amish boy who had been beaten by Deputy Reich. Elijah had ditched his car in front of Amy’s house in hopes of taking cover in their barn, or so the gossip went.

Such was life in a small town.

Becky shook away all the memories pelting her as she came to a clearing on the Kings’ property. She slowed and turned to look for her sister, who had fallen behind. The dog seemed content curled up in Mag’s arms despite being jostled as she ran to catch up.

When they reached the barn, Becky held up her hand. “Wait here while I look inside. I’m not going to hand the dog over this time without seeing the living conditions.” Most Amish kept their pets outdoors.

Becky pulled open the door and slipped through the small opening. It took her eyes a few minutes to adjust to the shadows. The smell of hay and manure, although unpleasant, wasn’t unfamiliar. She was grateful she was no longer responsible for mucking out the stalls. A little pang of guilt poked her because she had left her sister and brother behind to do her chores.

The guilt ebbed away as curiosity took hold. From the far end of the barn, she heard mewling sounds, as if a small animal or animals were in pain. Blinking, her eyes adjusted to the darkness.

Something moved in the shadows.

She pulled her flashlight from her belt and directed its beam toward the heartbreaking sound. The eyes of at least a dozen dogs in a small cage glowed under the light. She reeled back on her heels with a gasp.

“What are you doing in here?”

Becky spun around. Paul lifted his hand to block the light that hit his hardened expression under the wide brim of his straw hat. He gritted his teeth. “Get that out of my eyes, woman.”

Instinctively, Becky lowered her hand, but didn’t turn off the flashlight. Paul had a short fuse when things didn’t go his way. She remembered the sinking feeling she had as they discussed something regarding their future and his anger when she disagreed. He had fully expected her to be subservient as his wife. And why not? They both had grown up with similar role models in their homes.

Becky didn’t see that for her future. She had her own ideas. And from somewhere deep within, she had mustered the courage to leave. Sometimes she wondered how.

Resisting the urge to shine the beam back into his eyes to make a point, she gestured toward the door. “Come with me.”

She strode past him into the bright sunlight and around to the back where Mag was standing out of sight. “Why is this dog—any of those dogs—not being cared for?”

Some of the bluster disappeared as his mouth worked, but no words came. The uncertainty in his eyes made her believe that he didn’t know what to say. Perhaps he actually felt shame for the condition of the dogs.

“You didn’t answer my question. Why are you here?” Paul tried to regain the upper hand.

Surprisingly, Mag spoke up. “Your dog wandered over to my farm again. He came through the woods.” She spoke so softly she was difficult to hear above the dogs that had started barking in earnest at the commotion.

“This one keeps escaping.” Paul reached out to grab the dog from Mag’s arms. Mag pulled away and gave him her back, obviously determined not to relinquish the dog.

“I see stubbornness runs in the Spoth family.” Paul huffed and crossed his arms. “Give me my dog. You said yourself it came from my property.” It didn’t seem to register with him that this was the very same dog they had previously returned on two separate occasions. How many dogs did he have in that cage? How had this one been fortunate enough to escape on more than one occasion?

A look of terror—of realization—crossed her sister’s eyes and she took off running down the driveway, the awkward gait of someone holding on to something dearly as her gown slapped at her skinny legs.

“Mag!” Becky called out to her. She shared a brief exchange with Paul and an idea hit her. “I’m not going to hand over the dog like last time.”

Paul smirked, as if her threat was meaningless. “I think you have enough trouble not to go borrowing more.” His hard-edged stare made her speechless. “I read the papers. What are you going to do, beat me up?” He laughed, the sound scraping across her nerves. He held out his hand as if to touch her, and Becky stepped back, out of his reach. “You must be scrappier than I thought.”