Page 24 of A Gathering of Secrets

“You want something to drink?” he asks. “Fresh out of beer, but I got pop.”

I shake my head. “It’s a nice place you’ve got here.”

“Thanks. I’m training horses full-time now. I got two colts, a barrel horse, and a kid horse that ain’t no kid horse.” He dips his head and grins. “I got a rent-to-own deal with the owner. If all goes well, this place should be mine in about a year.”

“Sounds like you’re doing well.”

He takes a long pull of the soda and then sobers. “But then you’re not here to talk about me or my place, are you?”

“I’m afraid not.”

I run my hand over the Appaloosa’s shoulder as we make our way to the big door. Beyond, my Explorer sits in the waning light, ticking as the engine cools. We stop just outside the doorway.

“I heard Danny got killed in that barn fire. Is that true?” he asks.

“The coroner made positive ID yesterday.”

“Shit.” He looks out over the land. Anguish flashes on his face. “God, I hate that. Hard to believe he’s gone.”

I’m no schmuck when it comes to identifying phony emotions, but his seems genuine.

“I’ve known Danny since we were a couple of dumb Amish boys, six or seven years old. We were best friends once upon a time. I mean, he was like a brother to me. We basically grew up together.”

“You were Amish?”

“I still am, really.” But he looks down at his clothes and laughs. Dusty jeans. Denim shirt. Cowboy hat and boots. “On the inside, anyway.”

“What happened?”

“Couldn’t keep my nose clean. I pissed off my parents. Pissed off the bishop. I’m under the bann now. Haven’t seen my family in almost three months.”

“So you’ve been baptized.”

“Ran around for a couple of years and got baptized last year.”

It’s an all-too-familiar scenario. I don’t have to ask if he misses them; the pain of it is written all over his face. Every time I catch a glimpse of it, he’s quick to cover it with a smile.

“Brothers and sisters?” I ask.

“Six of them. Younger. Three girls and three boys. God, I miss them something fierce.”

“Why did they put you under the bann?”

Grinning, he motions toward the F-250. “She was the love of my life the instant I heard the purr of that engine. So they got me on the truck. We’ve got such an entrepreneurial spirit, you know. I mean, the Amish. I don’t know how they expect me to haul all these horses around without a truck.”

“Wouldn’t be easy. Unless maybe you have your clients bring them to you.”

“I could, I guess.” Smiling, he sighs. “Sure do like that truck, though.”

Despite the circumstances, I find myself liking Milo Hershberger. He’s soft-spoken with a boyish charm and a quiet, kind demeanor.

He looks at me closely, narrows his eyes. “You that cop used to be Amish?”

Now it’s my turn to smile. “Guilty.”

“Guess that makes two of us.” He raises his can of soda in a toast and takes another swig.

“Milo, what happened between you and Daniel?” I ask.