She offers a slow, appreciative grin. “For five bucks?” Snapping up the bill, she digs a pack of Marlboro Reds from her coat pocket, shakes out two and passes them to me along with a lighter. “Knock your socks off.”

“Thanks.” I drop one in my pocket, light the other, drawing in the smoke deeply. “Here’s to breaking the rules.”

She looks at me with a little less disdain as I return the lighter to her and I realize my I’m-a-rule-breaker-too tactic is working. “No one comes out here?” I ask.

“Too cold.”

“Smoking was against the rules back at my church district in Ohio. The men and boys could get away with it, but not the women.”

“That’s the Amish for you,” she mutters. “Equality for all.”

“I’m assuming it’s against the rules here, too.”

“What’s not against the rules here?” She rolls her eyes.

“I hear the bishop doles out some pretty serious punishment.”

She looks at the ground, blows out smoke. “I wouldn’t know.”

We smoke in silence for a moment, then I ask. “I heard you got into trouble.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear. In case you haven’t noticed, the Amish are a bunch of gossips.”

“Anna Gingerich told me you got locked in a chicken coop.”

“Anna’s a retard.” She sucks hard on the cigarette. “Makes up stories.”

“My bishop in Ohio—” I pause to correct myself, making up the story as I go—scrambling to keep her talking, get her to trust me, like me, open up. “My former bishop in Ohio locked a man in a wood shed for two days once.”

“What’d he do? Forget to wear his hat?”

I hesitate, look away, then meet her gaze. “Someone saw him … you know, with a horse.”

She tries to appear nonchalant, but doesn’t quite pull it off. Her eyes widen and she looks like she just bit into something sour. “That’s sick.”

“Yes, it is.” I give a nod of satisfaction. “The bishop was hard on him, but he deserved it. He never did it again.” I look at her. “I can’t imagine what you might’ve done to warrant such a severe punishment.”

“I sure didn’t fuck a horse.” She’s trying to shock me. When it doesn’t work she says, “You’re weird.”

I inhale smoke, enjoying the nicotine buzz more than I should. “I’m just trying to understand how things are done.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Her expression turns annoyed. “What are you doing here, anyway? I mean, in Roaring Springs?”

“I told you. I moved here from O—.”

“I got that part of it. But why?” She hefts a laugh. “No one comes here. It sucks here.”

“My husband died. I needed … a change. I wanted to—”

“Take a walk among the wicked?” She offers a nasty grin.

“I was looking for … something else.”