A Prayer for the Night by P. L. Gaus

Niell.
    “It’s the financial arrangement I use to let him stay with us even though he’s of an age to marry.”
    Cal asked, “Albert, do you know what kind of thing Abe and John had gotten mixed up in while they’ve been running together?”
    “The usual running around wild, I suppose,” Yoder said.
    Willis Stutzman coughed pointedly, and Albert said, “OK, well, maybe more than the usual wild behavior. Willis can tell you better.”
    Willis Stutzman appeared to Niell to be about ten years younger than Albert P. Yoder. He was dressed in blue denim trousers and a pink short-sleeved shirt under black braces. He eased forward on the deacon’s bench and leaned over, elbows on knees, to light his pipe. When he had it going he said, “My oldest boy, Andy, wants to marry Sara Yoder, but she’s not of a mind.”
    He glanced sideways through the smoke at Albert O. Yoder, Sara’s father, and the man shrugged apologetically, as if Stutzman had spoken a well-known fact.
    Stutzman continued. “It often develops that a man, gone courting, has to wait for the girl to make up her mind. But, when this Rumschpringe started up, quite a few of the kids took it too far. We Amish allow the Rumschpringe so that the children can learn what the English world is really like. So they can see what they are turning away from, if they choose to be Amish like us. That’s the only way they can be certain of their choice. If they didn’t burn it out of their systems, they would wonder all their lives what they had missed in the world. So, Amish allow the Rumschpringe, and have allowed it for many generations. But that doesn’t mean we approve of wild behavior. The children live with us, work with us, eat with us, and then sometimes, usually on a weekend, they just go away for a spell. Change their clothes to English and then go to town. We don’t follow them around, so we’re not ever really sure where they go, or what they do.
    “We allow this because it is all necessary for a true, informed, adult decision to join the church. It’s the best way for them and us to know that they are taking their vows seriously.”
    That said, Stutzman sat up straight and drew several puffs on his pipe, as if he thought he had said everything a soul could ever want to know on the matter.
    Sara’s father, Albert O. Yoder, said, “If she comes back, everything will be forgiven. Tell her that, Sergeant Niell.”
    Niell tapped a thumb on his knee and considered what had been said. He shifted to a more upright posture and said, “Are you telling me you don’t even know where Sara might be?”
    “Yes,” answered her father.
    “Or that you can’t tell us where she typically goes on the weekends?”
    An affirmative nod of Yoder’s head.
    “Who she hangs with in the English world?”
    Unhappy shrugs from all three of the men.
    Albert P. Yoder cleared his throat and stood up. Bishop Irvin Raber climbed the steps to the porch, and the men stood up briefly and then sat down when the bishop sat. Albert P. Yoder introduced Niell to the bishop, and Niell stood to shake his hand.
    When both men were seated again, the bishop said, “We’ll hold the services for John Schlabaugh as soon as we can. The Schlabaughs are on hard times, as you know, from their daughter’s medical bills, so they’re going to need help with the food for the day.” When he had handed each Amish man a slip of paper with figures written out for their family’s contributions, he finished by asking Niell, “Will we be able to have the body soon, Sergeant?”
    “I can’t say, Mr. Raber,” Niell said. “The coroner will make that decision.”
    Willis Stutzman and Albert O. bent to each other’s ears and whispered in dialect.
    The bishop said, “We shouldn’t be rude.” To Niell he explained, “The men were commenting that the coroner is a woman.”
    Niell nodded, and said enthusiastically, “She is. She’s Sheriff Robertson’s wife. And she’s the best coroner in any county