The Amish Bride. Emma Miller

was a small one,” she agreed as Micah got back into the buggy. “You don’t usually see them on the roads by the first of September.” This wasn’t the first time Micah had shown compassion for a small animal. She remembered him catching a six-inch black snake in the school cloakroom. Some of the other boys had wanted him to snap its neck against the shed wall, but he’d faced down two sixth graders and marched the snake to a hedgerow where he released it in the brush.

      “I always liked box turtles,” Micah said. “When we were young, Neziah and I always wanted to keep them as pets and train them to do tricks, but Dat wouldn’t let us. He always made us put them back exactly where we found them. He said they have their own territory, and if you move them out of it, they won’t rest until they get back to where they belong. A lot of them are run over by cars on the roads. I feel sorry for them, so I always take them across when I see one.” He arched an eyebrow. “You probably think it’s dumb.”