“You just lay there a second and cool off.” Pressing the boy down, his breathing elevated, Skid turns to me. “You okay, Chief?”
“I’m fine,” I tell him, but I can still feel the lingering effects of the blow, glancing or not.
“Katie, are you hurt?”
I glance over my shoulder, to see Bishop Troyer and his wife come to my side. “I’m fine,” I say. “Move aside.”
Shaking off the aftereffects of the blow, I step around them and focus on Adam Slabaugh. He’s standing a few feet away, brushing mud and dried grass from his clothes. Aware that my temper is lit, I point at him. “You. Come here.”
Looking like a guilty little boy facing corporal punishment, he drops his gaze and trudges over to me. “It wasn’t his fault.”
“He slugged you,” I snap. “Who else’s fault could it be?”
He stares at me, silent.
Realizing we’ve drawn an audience, I motion toward the Explorer. “Walk.”
I start off at a brisk pace, and he falls in beside me. “What happened?” I ask.
Slabaugh tosses me a sidelong look, shakes his head again. “I don’t know.”
I stop, another wave of anger cresting in my chest. He faces me and I shove my finger in his face. “I’m getting tired of people not answering my questions. If you don’t start talking right now, I’m going to haul you to jail and you can tell it to the judge in the morning.”
“I came to see the children.”
We reach the Explorer and stop. “Why?”
Slabaugh looks at me as if I’m dense. “They are my nephews and niece. I want them to come live with me.”
“That’s up to the court system, not you.”
“I’m their uncle.” Looking away, he shrugs. “I’m their only family. They are alone.”
Some of my anger begins to dissipate. “Tell me what happened between you and Mose.”
“The boy is angry. Understandably so.”
“Who threw the first punch?”
Slabaugh doesn’t answer, and I get the sense he doesn’t want to get his nephew into trouble. “Adam, come on,” I say, pressing him. “Tell me what happened.”
“The women would not allow me in the house, so I called out for the children to come outside and speak to me,” he tells me. “They did, and I asked them how they felt about coming to live with me. Mose made it clear he didn’t want that to happen. The younger boys were more open to the idea.” He shrugs. “I suppose I may have pushed too hard.” His expression hardens. “Solly poisoned them against me. He told them I am a bad man because I am not Amish.”
“Why did Mose hit you?”
He shakes his head. I wait him out. After a moment, Slabaugh shrugs. “He says he doesn’t want to live with me at the farm.” Another shrug. “He got angry. I tried to reason with him, tell him how I felt.…” Another shrug. “I didn’t intend to provoke him.”
“Did you touch him or threaten him in any way?”
“No, of course not. I would never strike a child.” He makes eye contact with me. “The anger is part of grief, Chief Burkholder. Mose will change his mind about me once he comes to terms with all this. Once they come to know me, I know I can give them good, happy lives.”
I remember the rage I saw on Mose’s face. I think of the blind punch he threw at me. Already I can feel the bruise burgeoning at my left temple. “Stay here,” I say, and start toward Mose and Skid. Some of the Amish women have gone back to the house. The ones who remain watch me with frigid stares. I feel their eyes upon me as I approach.
Skid meets me halfway. “You okay, Chief?”
“Just pissed.”
“Kid’s got a hell of a jab.” He motions toward Adam Slabaugh. “So what’s his story?”
“Says he came to ask the kids to live with him.”
“Guess it didn’t go down too well.” Nodding, Skid looks over his shoulder at Mose. “Kid says he doesn’t want to go.”
A few yards away, Mose stands alone, his hands cuffed behind his back, staring down at the ground. Ohio doesn’t have a mandatory arrest law, though in domestic violence situations a warrantless arrest is the preferred course of action. Since it’s my call and there are extenuating circumstances, I probably won’t take him in. But I need to let him know this kind of behavior won’t be tolerated.
“Keep an eye on the uncle, will you?” I say to Skid. “I’m going to talk to the kid.”
“Sure thing, Chief.”
I’m midway to Mose when I spot Bishop Troyer and his wife talking with another Amish couple, and I decide to give Mose a few more minutes to cool off while I get some information from them. “Bishop Troyer.”
He turns to me, bows his head slightly. “Chief Burkholder.”
“Can you tell me what happened?” I ask.
While the bishop isn’t above giving me an “I told you so” look, I know he won’t lie to me. “Adam Slabaugh arrived about twenty minutes ago and demanded to speak with the children. Of course, we turned him away at the door.” He grimaces. “But Adam would not leave. The children ran out to speak with their uncle. Mose and Adam began to argue.”
“Did Slabaugh touch the boy?”