Free The Hope of Refuge by Cindy Woodsmall

be in a dark hole with creepy things, not her.
    The man’s voice grew louder, as if he was heading straight for the silo. “Of course I’m not taking the pups to the auction.” He sounded as if he were leaning against the silo. “We’ll find homes for them in a few weeks when they’re old enough. But with Daed in the hospital and all your sisters busy with the auction work, you need to be my shadow. Now, come on before I lose my patience.”

    Silence reigned for a bit, and then the barn door slammed shut. She waited a couple of moments, then eased the silo’s hatch open and helped Lori get out. Simeon’s brother must’ve brought a pan of food with him, and the mama dog’s tail wagged as she ate.
    The sounds of many horses’ hoofs grabbed Cara’s attention, and she peeked through the barn door. A long row of horse-drawn buggies lined the road, all heading east. Cars moved around them, driving in the same direction.
    “Simeon said over a thousand people will be at the auction,” Lori said. “Can we go too? Please?”
    If they went and if she found a little more money, she might be able to buy a hot dog or something to help ease Lori’s hunger. Besides, if this place had any answers for her foggy memories or why that man had called her by her mother’s name, she was more likely to learn of them by going to a communitywide event than by traveling down quiet roads with her daughter. Since the auction was open to everyone, it couldn’t hurt for them to show up.
    Cara grabbed the backpack. “Let’s slip out the back and freshen up in the creek first. We can’t go looking like we slept in a barn.”

    The special-event tent over Deborah’s head promised to keep out the threatening rain as she spread frosting on a tray of cinnamon buns. She and Ada had been baking since two a.m., and now they were almost ready for the hundreds of customers to begin arriving. Six warming trays were lined up, filled with breakfast food—scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, biscuits, scrapple, and breakfast breads.
    Lists of what else needed doing filled her thoughts, but she wanted a chance to talk to Mahlon. Between her baking hundreds of biscuits and cinnamon rolls for today’s auction and her younger siblings needing her, she hadn’t caught more than a glimpse of him since the driver had arrived last night.

    “Hey, Little Debbie.” Jonathan’s familiar voice made her turn.
    She laughed at the sight of Mahlon’s cousin standing before her in the usual Amish attire but with the add-on of a white chef’s apron and knee-high waders covered in mud.
    He rolled his eyes. “Hey be nice. My makeshift cooking area is a muddy mess.”
    “You be nice. Anything I make should be better than a store-bought snack cake. So knock off the nickname thing.”
    He stuck out his hand, offering to shake hers. “Deal.”
    She peered at his palm, checking for a buzzer.
    He smiled and showed her his empty hand before lowering it. Jonathan usually made some gentle but humorous remark about her name. Maybe some Amish somewhere used the name Deborah, but no one in her life knew of them. She’d been named after her mother’s Englischer midwife.
    She lifted her leg slightly, glancing at the hem of her dress. It already had spatters of mud. “I know at the end of today, I’ll be doing my best to scrub mud out of all our clothing.”
    “Ya, you will. You should have worn a dark-colored dress. Did you get the change drawer?”
    “Not yet. I’d forgotten, actually.”
    “Nothing like an annoying friend to remind you of things you haven’t done.” He chuckled. “I can’t go get it. I’ve got sausages cooking. But if you need anything cooked, give me a holler.”
    “Denki.”
    It seemed odd that Jonathan and Mahlon were first cousins when the only similarity was the color of their eyes. Jonathan’s lighthearted openness was quite a contrast to Mahlon’s silent depth. Figuring Mahlon out didn’t come easily. But he drew her—as if she were a