An Amish Christmas Promise. Jo Brown Ann

sleeve was grabbed, and he struggled to hold his balance in the awkward stance. Putting his hands on the dirt, he pushed himself to his feet when he realized Carolyn must have rushed down to them.

      “Was iss letz?” he asked. When she opened her mouth, he said in Englisch, “What’s wrong?”

      A flurry of emotions stormed across her face before she looked away to point farther down the hillside. “Where’s the wood we pulled out of the brook?”

      He squinted through the bright morning sunshine. “Right there.” As he was about to add more, a skid steer moved toward the stack. The forks started to slide under the wood. “Did you tell them to move it?”

      “No.”

      Running at a pace that threatened to send him falling face-first, he managed to slide to a stop before he reached the one-man forklift.

      The man inside was so riveted on his task, he didn’t see Michael waving his arms. Michael leaped forward and grabbed the end of one of the boards rising on the forklift.

      A curse battered his ears, but he ignored it as he motioned to the man controlling the skid steer.

      “Are you crazy?” demanded the man, poking his head out of the small vehicle.

      “The owner wants to hold on to these boards.”