Free The Haven by Suzanne Woods Fisher Page A

and then, the mare bolted. The buggy shot forward on the curving front drive, then veered straight off the drive. M.K. was holding on to the door handle with both hands. They were gunning over the grass, shade trees were looming by, fences flickered past, the entire world was a blur. Chickens scattered, feathers flying, as they saw what was headed in their direction. Sadie was pinned against the seat and M.K. seemed to somersault on the front seat.
    Think, Sadie, think. You’re a grown woman now. Think!
    Sadie grabbed the loose reins and yanked as hard as she could. They blasted between two trees, and right over Fern’s newly planted flower bed. They sailed over neat rows of impatiens—red, pink, then white—but the front wheels of the buggy dug into the soft flower bed and caused the horse to slow from a canter to a trot, a trot to a walk, and finally, to a stop. Sadie collected her wits, at least those that hadn’t been shaken out of her, and turned to check on M.K. Her little sister had both feet braced against the dashboard of the buggy, and her eyes were really big. She never saw M.K. scared, except maybe when Sadie was driving.
    M.K. took a few deep, gulpy breaths. “Cayenne? Why in the world did you harness up Cayenne? She’s barely buggy broke. She’s as skittish a filly as they come.”
    Sadie wiped perspiration from her forehead. “She was the only horse in the barn.”
    M.K. peeled out the door on her side, ending up in a pile on the grass. “I hate to say it, Sadie, but being in a buggy with you at the helm could be hazardous to a person’s health.” She spit a feather out of her mouth. “You kill more chickens driving the buggy than the Fishers on butchering day.” She brushed herself off and checked for damages. “Either I drive or I’m staying home.”

    Ten minutes later, Mary Kate steered Cayenne into the Bent N’ Dent, a small Amish corner store without any signage out front. Sadie went into the store to get the items on Fern’s list and told M.K. to wait in the buggy. Waiting was never a strength for Mary Kate, and she soon grew bored with watching the horse’s tail swat flies.
    Another buggy pulled into the Bent N’ Dent and she poked her head out of the window to see who it was. She scowled when she saw Jimmy Fisher, her arch nemesis, jump from his buggy. They’d had a running feud since the first day she started school. It was set aside briefly after Menno died, but soon resumed again. It was unfortunate, M.K. always thought, that Jimmy happened to be blessed with good looks and a charming personality, because the spoiled youngest son of Edith Fisher was usually up to mischief. He was the sort of boy who couldn’t settle until he’d jerked a girl’s bandanna off her head or tripped someone walking down the aisle at church. And he was the only boy Mary Kate knew who smoked on a regular basis: cigars, cigarettes, pipes, or corn silk. He was a scoundrel of the worst kind.
    Under ordinary circumstances she wouldn’t pay any mind to Jimmy Fisher. But as she watched him stride toward the store, she realized he had grown tall as a stork, seemingly overnight. It must have been coming on him in stages, but she hadn’t noticed until today, and she couldn’t believe it. Mostly, she saw him from afar, and he was always striding in the other direction.
    Jimmy Fisher had begun to leave the skinny boy behind and was cutting the fine figure of a lanky man. His knees were working through his britches, and his wrists had grown out of his sleeves. She noticed how fuzzy sideburns were beginning to grow down the sides of his face. He would turn fifteen this summer.
    With a smug look on his handsome and horrible face, Jimmy saw her and sauntered over to her buggy.
    “Well, if it isn’t Mary Kate Lapp,” he said, placing his hands on the open window. “I see you’re taking your old nag out for an afternoon stroll. Hope she can get you home by supper.”
    Blond though he was, you could see a