As they began to head back in the direction of the information center, Anna noticed a large farm ahead, where a stone wall separated a horse paddock from a green meadow. The wall’s gray weathered stones looked striking in the noontime sun, and she observed an arched wrought iron sign over the entrance: Peaceful Meadows Horse Retreat.

Riley must have noticed it, too, because she announced, “Daddy, look at that ginormous horse farm!” craning her neck to see as they passed the turn into the place.

“Someone sure likes horses.” Mart glanced over his shoulder from where he sat up front with Mr. Brown.

Riley nodded her head and grinned. “Can we please stop there, Daddy?”

Mart deferred to Mr. Brown in the driver’s seat.

“Maybe later, honey,” her father said, explaining that they had lunch reservations coming up soon.

Like Riley, Anna was fascinated by the place and wondered why it was called a retreat. Quickly, she checked her phone for information. Peaceful Meadows Horse Retreat, she read silently, offers horseback riding therapy and is owned by an Amish family whose mission is to offer hope to special needs people from infants to adults. There were multiple glowing reviews from parents whose children had been helped by the therapeutic program, as well as comments from volunteers.

I should look into this for future clients, she decided.

After work that afternoon, Anna drove back to the horse therapy farm. Entering the long lane from the main road, she came upon what looked at first like a campground retreat, with a high hedge growing on either side and an old stone wall running along the base of the paddock to the south, dividing it from the pastureland. No horses or people were in sight.

She parked and made her way past the cow barn to a large horse stable. Finding that it, too, was empty, she assumed the horses must be grazing in the meadow and meandered around the side of the building. A brawny blond Amishman wearing a short-sleeved gray shirt and black suspenders, his straw hat pushed down hard on his head, was briskly walking her way, his eyes cast to the ground.

“Hello,” she said, not even sure he realized she was standing there.

When he lifted his eyes and saw her, he frowned momentarily. “Lookin’ for someone?” he asked, as if he thought she were lost.

“Saw the sign out front and was just curious about this farm. I noticed your website says you offer horseback riding therapy.”

“Jah, that’s what we do here.” He continued to scrutinize her, running his hand across his closely cropped blond beard. “My uncle owns the place. It’s my job to keep things running . . . hopefully smoothly.”

“My father breeds ponies, but I’ve never heard of therapy using horses.”

“So, you’re a fellow horse person.” He paused. “Ach, I should introduce myself. My name’s Gabe Allgyer.” He stepped forward to shake her hand.