A Churn for the Worse by Laura Bradford

Hank’s orange juice glass, the conversation taking place around her no match for the one from the previous night that kept resurrecting itself in her thoughts.
    She’d tried to be encouraging and optimistic, but once she and Jakob had called it quits for the night, she’d realized just how out of touch she’d been. With no workable sketch of the man who’d likely stolen the money from the Stutzman home, or witnesses to what happened to Wayne in the barn, finding the man’s murderer was the proverbial needle in a haystack quandary.
    For a man like Jakob, who’d sacrificed so much of himself in the name of justice, such a task had to be maddening, if not downright depressing.
    â€œI never grow tired of looking at these pictures, Diane. They all tell a story if you’re willing to take the time to see it.” Judy Little pointed to the dining room wall and the framed black-and-white photographs that adorned it. “Like that one of the field. The horses resting off to the side of the partly plowed crop is so perfect. Then again, I’m stilljust as partial to the one of the Amish boy practicing his driving skills on the miniature horse with the heads of his siblings popping over the sides of the pull cart.”
    â€œWhen do Amish children start driving?” Hayley asked.
    â€œWhen the parents feel they are capable of handling a full-sized horse and buggy.” Diane placed a spoon inside a large bowl of fruit and set it down in the middle of the table. “Going to pick out a horse when they’re a teenager is an exciting day. They’ll actually take a horse out of the stall and test drive it prior to purchase just like we test drive a car. They want to know how the horse handles and how it responds to commands.”
    â€œDid you read the paper this morning?” Judy asked, switching gears. “The story about that Amish family who was robbed? I just can’t wrap my head around the notion someone would steal from the
Amish
. I mean,
why
?”
    Hayley lifted the pale yellow cloth napkin from her lap, wiped around her full lips, and then set it on the table next to her half-empty plate. “But what’s to steal? It’s not like they have expensive gadgets and jewelry.”
    â€œThey have money,” Hank stated between gulps of his juice. “You need to remember, Hayley, the Amish are incredibly resourceful when it comes to making a living and, since they don’t believe in gadgetry and jewelry, they’re not spending what they make.”
    â€œWait a minute,” Claire said, reengaging in the conversation. “Is this about the robbery at the Stutzman farm?”
    â€œIt was in the morning paper.” Judy quietly requested that the syrup make its way back down the table to her spot and then took up where she left off. “At least one of them said something to the police this time. Although, lookingat the picture of the suspect alongside the article, the cops are probably no better off with the picture than they’d be without one.”
    Claire wanted to argue, but she couldn’t. After all, Jakob had essentially said the very same thing.
    â€œThere’s a
picture
?” Hayley pushed her chair back from the table and rose to her feet, her gaze ricocheting between the clock on the wall and the faces of the people still actively eating. “I thought the Amish didn’t
take
pictures.”
    Judy scrunched up her nose, shaking her head as she did. “It was a drawing. Done by one of those sketch artist people.”
    â€œAnd? It’s not good?” Hayley prodded while simultaneously walking toward the doorway.
    â€œMy son was drawing more detailed pictures when he was in kindergarten.” Judy propped her elbows on the edge of the table and leaned forward. “This sketch? It was essentially a round face with dark hair and dark eyes.”
    â€œI haven’t seen it, myself, but I know that any