“This is bad for us,” Bobby said. “We aren’t supposed to watch programs like this. They are too violent. My daddy says so.”
“Shut up, kid,” Junior said, peering around him. Big Time Wrestling was on, and the sweaty men wrestled and grunted and pounded each other. “Just sit still and watch TV like your friend.”
“He isn’t supposed to be watching this either,” Bobby insisted. “You should turn it off and play games with us or read us a book.”
“You have got to be kidding.” Junior actually chuckled. “Greta can play games with you when she gets up from her nap—if she wants to. You gave her a headache.”
“And all you’ve done is feed us potato chips and pop,” Bobby continued to complain. “My stomach hurts. I want a peanut-butter sandwich and so does Ezra.”
Ezra glanced at him in surprise when he heard his name but then turned his attention back to the television. The child was mesmerized. He had never seen such a spectacle.
“My daddy and mommy are going to be so mad at you for doing this,” Bobby said. “Just you wait.”
“Yeah?” Junior laughed. “And what are your parents going to do? Pray for me? That’s a real threat there.”
For a moment, Bobby was tempted to tell Junior what he knew—that Rachel would be looking everywhere to find him and she wouldn’t give up until she did. He wanted to tell this mean man that Rachel carried a gun and was so good with it that Daddy had found trophies up in the attic. But something told him that it was best if he continued to pretend to be Amish. It probably wasn’t a good idea to tell Junior that his mommy was a cop and his daddy was big and strong and famous.
Instead, he went to the door and tried the knob. “I’m going home.”
“Oh, you are, are you?” Junior said.
Bobby rattled the doorknob again.
“It’s dark outside. There’s nothing out there except trees,” Junior said. “You wouldn’t be able to find your way home even if I let you go.”
“I’d rather be lost than here with you!” Bobby said.
“Not when a coyote decides to eat you,” Junior said. “They have big teeth and yellow eyes, and they’re out there just waiting for a juicy little boy to try to escape.”
That gave Bobby pause. He was pretty sure Junior was just trying to scare him, but he didn’t think it would be wise to test it. There were coyotes in the area. He had heard Aunt Bertha and Aunt Lydia talking about them.
“How long do we have to stay here?” Bobby plopped himself back down in front of the television and crossed his arms.
“Until some nice Amish people bring us a whole lot of money. Then I plan to never see your face again, or his.” Junior said. “Hey, I gotta go to the can. You rug rats better still be sitting here when I get back.”
Bobby could feel tears welling up in his eyes but kept his head turned away so Junior wouldn’t see them. He didn’t want Junior to think he was a baby.
After Junior left the room, Bobby wiped his tears away and went back to the door. He tried again to get out, only this time he tried really hard. He remembered Rachel telling him that if someone ever managed to steal him, his job was to try to escape and not give up.
“You need to be good,” Ezra said in Pennsylvania Dutch. “You should not be a bad boy and talk back to him like that. You should be more respectful. If we do what they say, I think they will let us go.”
“I don’t want to be respectful,” Bobby said. “I want to get out of here.”
“You heard Junior. There are coyotes out there. They will eat you.”
“Junior is a coyote.” Bobby gave up on the locked door, gave it a kick, and then started working on opening one of the windows. It was stuck, and he wasn’t strong enough to unstick it. “He’s a bad man. I’d rather get eaten by a coyote than stay here with him.”
“He’ll come back and catch you trying to get out the window,” Ezra said. “You need to get back here and sit down quick.”
Junior walked back into the room and heard the two little boys talking to each other in Pennsylvania Deutsch. “What are you two saying? Get away from that window! Come back here and sit down before I swat your behind.”
Bobby obeyed. He came back and sat, but he let Junior know he wasn’t happy by glaring at him over his shoulder every now and then as he watched the two sweaty men wrestle and fight.
“I want to watch cartoons,” he said.
“Well, I don’t.”
“Well, I do.”
“Are you sure you’re Amish?” Junior narrowed his eyes at him.
Bobby rattled off a string of Pennsylvania Deutsch, telling Junior that he was nothing but an old, ugly, stinky coyote. Ezra giggled.
Junior narrowed his eyes at Bobby. “What did you say?”
“I told Ezra a joke.”
Greta came through the doorway, rubbing her eyes. “Your turn,” she said. “I’ll keep watch for a while.”
“Good,” Junior said. “This kid is giving me a headache now.”
“We’re not supposed to watch things like this,” Bobby said. “And I want a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich. Ezra wants one too, don’t you?”
“Well, it’s obvious he’s scared to death of us,” Junior said. “Obedient Amish child, my foot! This one is as bad as any Englisch kid I’ve ever seen.”
“Calm down.” Greta changed the channel and a blue train engine took over the screen. “I’ve got some peanut butter.”
“We don’t have to do this, you know,” Junior said. “We don’t have to feed them or listen to this one’s mouth. I could tie them up, put duct tape on their mouths, have some peace and quiet, and get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day and we need to be sharp in order to do the exchange.”
“I’m not going to starve these kids or tie them up.” She put her hands on her hips. “A little TV time won’t do these kids any harm, and tomorrow night they’ll go back to their parents. No harm, no foul. Just you and me and enough money to live on for the rest of our lives.”
“Their church better come through with the money.”
“Trust me, they’ll come through with it. And they won’t hardly miss it.”
She left for a few minutes and came back with peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches for both children.
“Danke,” Ezra said politely.
“You used red jelly.” Bobby couldn’t help himself. He was unhappy and needed to complain. “I only like purple jelly.”
“That’s all I have,” she said. “And you’re lucky to get that.”
“I don’t like red jelly.” He threw the sandwich onto the floor. “And I don’t like you.”
She rolled her eyes at Junior. “You’re the one who decided to grab this one. Thanks a lot.”
“How was I to know?” Junior shrugged. “They all look alike to me. All I wanted to do was take Luke Yoder’s kid. How was I to know he’d have a friend with him?”
“I’m beginning to wish we’d never started this. Setting hay bales on fire and letting cattle loose is one thing. Kidnapping is another.”
“Messing with those people was fun. They deserve it after what they did to our sister.”
“Well, there is definitely something defective with this one. I’ve never seen an Amish child act like this.”
“Go get some duct tape,” Junior said.
“Go cool off. We get the money and we hand over the children—in as good a shape as we got them. Period. Now pick that sandwich up!” she said to Bobby. “And I don’t want to hear another word from you.”
Silently, and with every movement screaming rebellion, Bobby picked up the sandwich and threw it into the overflowing trash can. He would rather go hungry than give these people the satisfaction of seeing him eat it.
He sat back down on the floor close beside Ezra.
“Please don’t make them any angrier,” Ezra whispered in their private language. “I’m afraid of what they will do to us.”
“Don’t worry. Rachel will find us.”
“How do you know? Maybe she can’t.”
“Because she said she would. And if Rachel says she will, I know she will, because she always keeps her word.”
“Just be a good boy,” Ezra warned. “If we’re nice, I think they’ll let us go when they get the money.”
Bobby didn’t answer. He had absolutely no intention of being a good boy.