Free Kingdom Come by Jane Jensen Page B

right?”
    â€œJa. You gotta mate a donkey and a horse. A mule is barren, whether it’s a john or a molly.” About then Horse had apparently had enough of a hello and went trotting across the pasture toward some equine friends.
    â€œIt’s an interesting choice, to breed an animal that can’t reproduce itself. Must make it challenging.”
    â€œOne of my best customers calls it ‘job security.’” There was a glint of humor in his eyes. “Anyhow, mules are special. Maybe some things the creator makes aren’t meant to multiply.”
    There was a funny tone in his voice, something dark. I wasn’t sure what it meant until I remembered what Grady had said about Ezra Beiler losing not only his wife but apparently a child too in a miscarriage. Suddenly my own mourning hit me down low, an undefined pain in my core, and I felt guilty and stupid for the way Ezra made me feel—the way I hadn’t felt since Terry died.
    I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. We were nearly at the trees.
    â€œYou were askin’ about cows. See, mules are smarter than horses by far. And cows make horses look intelligent. Usually cows are milked in the mornin’, so farmers will shut ’em up afterthe evenin’ milkin’, especially this time of year. Then they let ’em out again once they’ve been milked in the mornin’.”
    â€œWhat time do they finish the morning milking?”
    â€œDepends on how lazy the farmer is,” Ezra said with a gravely serious tone. “But that’s just talkin’ about milkin’ cows. There’s also calves and heifers. You need to separate the calves and the heifers from the milkin’ cows so they don’t steal your milk. They like as not have free access to a separate pasture all the time. Then there’s the bulls, if a farm’s got ’em. I guess you know why they’d need to have their own acre. And if it’s beef cows, well, that’s a whole ’nother story. Most farmers with beef cows just leave the herd out all the time cause there’s no reason to bring ’em into the barn or keep the bulls apart even.”
    It was the most information any of the Amish had given me without repeated prompting. We’d reached the creek, and I stopped there and looked at him.
    â€œThat’s . . . useful. But I’d probably need to take a course in animal husbandry before I’d remember half of it.”
    â€œI guess I shoulda just said, ‘It all depends.’” He got a wry little quirk in the corner of his mouth and a sparkle in his eyes even as they avoided mine and looked out over the creek. Holy shit. I was beginning to figure out Ezra Beiler’s sense of humor, and it was drier than sandpaper in the desert. I liked it.
    â€œWhat about your neighbor’s animals? They’re mostly dairy cows, right?”
    He shrugged. “I seen ’em down here.” He nodded his head toward the chicken wire strung up between his farm and the Millers’. “But can’t say I’ve put much thought into it. Got work enough of my own without worrying about their animals, ’less Isee ’em in the road or someplace they’re not supposed to be. They get loose in my garden, I’d be real interested in that.”
    I turned away to hide my smile. “Okay. Do you ever see any hunters or fisherman using the creek?”
    â€œI hear gunshots more than I see ’em, but they’re down here for sure.”
    â€œIt doesn’t bother the Amish when hunters trespass on your land?”
    â€œWell, sometimes it’s Amish who hunt here. It’s allowed, you know, though most Amish farmers don’t have the time. But English people do it too. There’s a sort of honor system. Hunters keep the deer from getting to be a problem—deer and farmin’ don’t get along real well. And if they bring somethin’