Torsten visually cringed at Allison’s reply to the old man. There was very little he could do to referee. He was, by his very nature, always on thin ice with the local Amish. If it had been another branch, it likely would have been another matter altogether. Not the Swartzentruber. They likely considered the death of the two prisoners by Torsten’s hand as grave a crime as Mary’s death. The unfamiliarity of the cruel men’s faces was the only thing lessening the blow towards the two at the time. 

Samuel screwed his face into a scowl towards Allison, “It is not Amish that did this. The Godless English came here. Not the other way around!”

Torsten stepped forward, moving between the two. He rose a hand up, trying to keep the man calm. Like it or not, Torsten figured that they needed him. It was the only reason why they came. “Samuel, I’m sorry for the mess that I made. I am not a God’s man. I did not know what else to do. Please, we came here to get her boots from your store. We’re making our way to Portland. She’s a doctor. She has to go do her job.”

Samuel leered over Torsten’s shoulder at Allison. His scowl was still present, though he finally nodded assent. He glanced down at her feet, “I will be a few minutes. Rest by the barn. We will attend to the bodies,” he motioned to the two dead convicts whose blood had turned the grass and dirt into a red morass. He turned, disappearing once again down the dirt road.

The Finn let out a breath of relaxation. He turned to face Allison, reaching out with his free hand to grab one of her’s. He held it, “You are a great doctor. You were wonderful. I’m sorry he treated you in that way, but we are at his home. Their way is their way. Do not be too harsh on them… I believe he’s scared.” He turned his head to look at where the Amish man had shuffled towards. “He would like to believe God is on his side, but his way of life cannot exist without peace. He is worried that peace is gone, I think.”

He let go of Allison’s hand. “I am glad you are here.”