PROLOGUE

 

Esther Schwartz dug her hands into the clay Kentucky dirt to make a mud pie.  Scooping it up, she formed a ball and smashed it between her small hands.  A southern breeze sideswiped her blonde hair like a swaying sail boat.  Her crystal blue eyes were the same shade as the Southwestern Kentucky sky, and she knew it, for people would tell her that, even the other schoolchildren.  A white kapp and small lavender calico bonnet lie five feet away beneath the tall, gliding white and purple-kissed lilies. The quiet mist of rain from the night before had sprinkled new life among the green grass and lakeside vegetation. 

Although the Schwartz family farm only bordered the front tip of the lake, the view was marvelous, and the Schwartz children, from the older, now married, men: Ralph, Tony, and Elijah, to the youngest three: Ben, Esther, and Ruth  had always spent most of their summer breaks playing by the lake.  Esther didn’t like to talk about Ben because he’d just left for Rumspringa and hadn’t been back yet, nor had her written her, and even the mention of his name made her hang her head with stray tears. 

“Ruth!  Stay over here!”  Esther yelled as she tried to glance at her baby sister’s whereabouts.  The toddler had her own pile of mud and play dishes ten feet away.  Dandelions nestled atop her bowl of mud and grass, and her chubby hands were fixing to mix the ingredients.  “You can’t make a mud pie with the dandelions mixed up.  They go on top, Ruth!” 

“Ja!”  Ruth’s chubby cheeks glowed with a burning eagerness to please her older sister.  Her bright baby blues twinkled at her older sister, and her little mouth curved into a cute, adorable smile. The refreshing wind broke through the sun’s beaming rays and dangled her delicate blonde hair atop her head. 

Esther was nine, making her five years older than Ruth.  Esther didn’t have to look after her baby sister; she wanted to look after her, for she was mighty special.  Esther had prayed for a baby sister with chubby cheeks, and she’d been given one. Being in a house full of men, Esther wanted another female companion around to play with on their sprawling farm. 

“Little girl, I am friends with your mother and father.  I was told to come give you a rest from babysitting,” a tall man in a black business suit stood to her right and spoke calmly and politely.  The wind blew but did not unravel his thick, shiny black hair.  “I’m taking her up to the house with me.”

“Jah.”  Esther said as she studied the man’s attire.  His bright red cowboy boots didn’t match his black suit and tie. 

Whistling echoed around the lake, and the mother swan edged up to here Esther’s sweet voice.  Two initial-carved mud pies were neatly placed on the oval plastic plate.  Two plucks of the dandelions that rested next to her bare feet and the pies were ready to give away.  Would the stranger want one?  Esther stood up in search of him and saw him walking back to her alone.

“Where’s my baby sister?”  Esther asked.  The man gave no response and kept walking toward her. 

Esther knew that something wasn’t right, so she turned and made a run for the house.  She could hear him chasing after her.  What he didn’t know was that the hill that she was fixing to jump was full of slick mud, and if you didn’t make a perfect leap, you’d be rolling in a mud bath.

SWOOSH!  A fall rattled the air as Esther leaped on the top of the hill and pattered toward the back yard.  Her mamm, or mother, was slowly hanging out the laundry on the clothesline. 

“I ran and ran mamm!”  Esther grabbed her mother’s white apron and huffed and puffed.  “There’s a weird man down by the lake.”

“A tourist?”  Her mother was unalarmed as she ran her hand over her daughter’s long hair.  “Where is your bonnet and kapp? She gently kissed her daughter’s chubby face.  The little one was known to daydream up stories in her own backyard; today, it seemed as if she had gotten extremely creative.

“Down by the lake.  A man took Ruth to watch her.” Esther huffed and puffed, her little face a deep red, mud caking her weary feet.

Esther’s mother, Mary Ann jerked down.  Strands of her deep black hair twirled before her face as she grasped her hands around her daughter’s oval face.  “What do you mean he took Ruth to watch her?” Could there actually be a tourist?  She began to think that she was telling the truth.

“He said that it was to give me a break.”

“Mark!  Mark!”  Mary Ann yanked Esther up into her arms and ran for the work shed.

Her husband was not there.  Mary Ann shivered as she cuddled Esther in her arms.  What had happened to Ruth, and why’d a stranger claim to have permission to watch her?  The truth would be told in newspapers worldwide as a photo of a procession of black buggies splashed the front pages.