Jennie stopped breathing. Her lungs protested. She didn’t want to move, not even to let them expand and contract. Silly snake facts spouted by her son Micah when he wanted to make her shiver presented themselves. Snakes can’t sweat so they avoid the afternoon sun. They take naps during the day and come out when it’s cooler and dark. This one would likely stretch at least four feet long, not including its rattle. Its skin glowed brown and golden with a darker stripe down the back.

Jennie’s mouth went dry. Her stomach chose that moment to heave. The hot dog did not want to stay down. Purple spots dotted her vision. “Cottonmouth?” Nathan whispered. He stood motionless at her side. “Poisonous?”

“Rattler.” She tried to speak without moving her mouth. “Rare here, but you see them. Obviously.”

“Don’t move.” His voice barely audible, he took one step, stopped. “I’ll grab Francis and we can hightail it out of here.”

“Nee. You’ll startle him and he’ll holler.” Her fear of snakes might be big, but her fear of one of her children being hurt was greater. She searched the ground. Not a single rock big enough to dispatch the viper. “Don’t. Move.”

Leo could help. If anyone could help it would be Leo. He’d know what to do.

He was a man who never flinched. He’d been through the worst. Since that terrible day, he’d taken everything in silent stride.

She turned slowly, carefully, tiptoeing at first, ridiculous as it must look, and then ran.

Her sneakers sank into the rich, dark soil, impeding her progress. The scent of sweat and grass and dirt assailed her nose. She needed to run, faster, faster. Gott, help me. I know we’re not on the best of terms, but please, Gott, help me.

Leo had the reins in his hands when she reached the fence. She slammed to a halt. “Help. Snake. Rattler. Francis.”

He dropped the reins and reached behind the buggy seat. A long, lean, deadly looking brown rifle emerged.

Rifle in hand, he hurtled over the fence like a boy half his age. His straw hat plummeted to the ground. His legs were much longer than Jennie’s, but fear and adrenaline that tasted like metal on her tongue propelled her in his wake.

Leo slowed, slowed some more, halted, then stepped forward with a balance and ease that spoke of a much smaller man. He raised the rifle, took aim, and sent the snake on its way in an explosion of sound that made Jennie jump even though she knew it was coming. The acrid smell of gunpowder filled the air and burned her nose.

With a blood-curdling scream Francis rolled over, hopped to his feet, and ran straight into Jennie’s open arms. She scooped him up and hugged him hard, despite the urge to take him to the woodshed for a “talk.”

“Danki.” She spoke the single trembling word to Leo but let her gaze encompass Nathan. He was willing to do more. He simply hadn’t known what to do. “Francis thanks you too.”

A spark of something indefinable in his amber eyes, Leo nodded and set off across the field, his rifle slung over his shoulder, his gait loose and easy. Taking it in silent stride, just the way she knew he would.