“I worship God the Father. Jim… the law of nature, Mother Earth, survival of the fittest. We argued. But, as usual, Jim was right. He followed Rickreiner out of a tavern and ran him off the road. Sliced him like a hog. Rolled him and his truck off into Gullickson’s manure pond. Gibbs talked to us as suspects. Jim acted offended by that. After we were cleared, we left.”

“What do you mean, you left?”

“We didn’t really leave. We didn’t have one red penny to leave on. We had nothing but the land and those few buildings. But Jim told people we were moving back to Florida, said we’d take hurricanes over being suspected for crimes we didn’t commit. Faith was with us by then. We moved way back inside that land and started as pioneers all over again.”

Patience had to have a mother. Was this her? Faith? The sheriff changed angles.

“Faith who? Does she have a last name? Where is she from?”

“I couldn’t say except Jim met her in a bar over in Iowa.”

She paused to swallow back a wave of disgust that left her throat stinging.

“ ‘With us,’ you said. Faith was with who?”

“Us,” he said again.

“Mr. Golly, whose partner was Faith?”

He closed his eyes. “We never really did decide that.”

She gritted her teeth—resisted cracking his face with the back of her hand—calmed herself enough to stay with the purpose of her question. “Whose child is Patience? Yours or Jim’s?”

She watched his answer, a shrug beneath the sheet. Her stomach rolled and her right hand closed into a fist. Let it go, Heidi. Unless and until it matters.

“But Patience lived with you.”

“Patience went with me when I came back out to the farm after a year and a half. Jim had another break, in his mind. He wouldn’t tolerate the crying and he made Faith give her up. But he was still my brother. I came back out looking Amish like this and told any English who were curious that I had bought that farm. I kept folks untangled from Jim as best I could, the way I always have, and nobody ever asked twice about it.”

“You tried to join the Amish?”

“For show. I knew they wouldn’t have us.”

“You spoke German?”

“Our mother was German. I studied from an Amish Bible. I only spoke German to Patience. Pidgin German. It’s all she’s got.”

“Why the name, Mr. Golly? You were trying to hide in plain sight. Why not Gabriel Smith?”

“Gotteskinder.”

“What?”

“I only ever said that I was Gabriel Gotteskinder. It was the Amish who started calling me Goodgolly, with a wink. Those people never say directly what they know. I played dumb and went along. No one cared anymore. It just stuck.”

“How old is Patience?”

“Seventeen.”

“Where is her baby? Or babies?”

“Born dead.”