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mean . . .”
    “I do.” Mammi got into the passenger seat. “Sheriff won’t mind a bit. We’re good friends. I’ve known that boy since he was in diapers.”
    “Still . . .” Her father was forever warning her to avoid stepping into moral mud puddles, and here she was jumping headfirst into one of his mother’s own making!
    Mammi reached over and pushed open the driver’s side door. Cautiously, Bess slipped in.
    She glanced at her grandmother with a worried look. “Seems like there are rules . . .”
    Mammi turned to give Bess one of her surprised looks. “Es is en schlechdi Ruhl as net zqwee Wege schafft.” It’s a bad rule that doesn’t work both ways. “Never forget that.” She looked straight ahead. “Let’s go.”
    Bess sighed and prayed God would understand. She turned the ignition and the car roared to life. She opened her mouth to try once more to talk her grandmother out of this notion, but Mammi only pointed down the road. “That way.”
    As if Bess was driving a car made of eggshells, she shifted the gear, took her foot off the brake, and the car lurched forward. This wasn’t at all like driving a tractor in an open field. She was terrified she would hit something or somebody. She drove so slowly that a few shopkeepers came outside and stared at the sight of two Plain women inching a police car down the street.
    “That’ll do,” Mammi said after one block. “Park it over there.” She pointed to the curb.
    Bess pulled over and shifted the gear to park. The car lurched to a halt and the engine died. She exhaled with relief. She knew she could start the car, but she wasn’t quite sure about stopping it. Her grandmother’s eyes were on the rearview mirror. On her face was another of those rare smiles. Running up the road was the portly sheriff, waving his fists in the air. Mammi opened the door and climbed out of the car, prepared to meet the sheriff head-on. Bess slowly stepped out, wondering how many years a car thief would spend in prison.
    The sheriff slowed to a jog and reached them, panting heavily. “Miz Riehl! What the Sam Hill were you thinking?”
    “Hello there, Johnny,” Mammi said, friendly as anything. “Have you met my granddaughter?”
    Still panting, the sheriff looked Bess up and down without a smile.
    Bess stood there, nearly dying of shame.
    The sheriff hooked his hands on his hips. “ Why would you take my police car?”
    Mammi looked unusually innocent. “Bess here is visiting from Ohio. She’s driven a tractor before. We just got to wondering—”
    We? Bess wondered.
    “—if it seemed like the same thing . . . driving a car or driving a tractor. I don’t know too many folks with cars. So I figured you wouldn’t mind if we borrowed yours.”
    “Borrowed the car? Miz Riehl, what you did was to steal a police officer’s car! That’s larceny! I could have you arrested.”
    Mammi nodded agreeably. “So be it.” She stretched out her hands so that he could handcuff her.
    The sheriff looked down at her fists thrust in front of him, then looked up at her, bewildered. “Miz Riehl, I’m not going to throw a widder lady into the pokey.”
    “The law is the law,” Mammi said. “But I get one phone call.”
    “Miz Riehl, I just don’t want you moving my patrol car.”
    “Stealing,” Mammi said. “You called it stealing.”
    The sheriff sighed, exasperated. “Seeing as how it was recovered and no harm was done, I’ll just give you a warning this time.” He got in the car, closed the door, and stuck his head out the window, jutting his round chin in Bess’s direction. “I’ve got my eye on you, young lady. You should know I got E.S.P. Extrasensory perception. I see things before they happen.” He glared at her. “I don’t know what kinds of trouble Amish teens get into in Ohio, but you can’t get away with those shenanigans in Stoney Ridge.” He looked disgusted and shook his head. “Hoodwinking a sweet little old lady into taking a