Leah Beck was in her kitchen, a few days afterward, preparing breakfast. There were bowls of oatmeal on the table, and Leah put small jars of strawberry and raspberry preserves in the middle of the table. She grabbed a few jars of powdered ginsang and set those on the table and went to the springhouse to get the milk. When she came back from the spring house, she poured the milk into wooden bowls and set them beside the bowls of oatmeal. She went across the room to call for Amos and stepped on something: a pair of suspenders. She bent down and picked them up and her hands tightly gripped the suspenders. "That boy!" She said, clenching her teeth. She rushed up to the loft and yanked off all the quilts and pillows off of his bed. "Where is that boy?" She scanned the room and saw he wasn't there. She ran outside and looked over at the fields, he wasn't there. Leah went to the barn, carrying the buggy whip with the pieces of glass on the end of it. She rushed into the barn, and saw him in the corner, asleep. She saw the bandages on his torso and upper arms, but she didn't care. The memory of what she had done to the boy just days earlier was gone from her mind. Leah went over to him and raised the whip up in the air and was about to strike the young man, who was now awake and had a look of absolute terror on his face. He shut his eyes tight and braced himself for yet another beating he figured was coming to him, but a strong hand grabbed the woman's hand and prevented it. It was Mr. Beck, of course. Fred opened his eyes and let the breath out that he had been holding in. Fred saw Amos grab his wife by the arms, and in his anger, he practically picked her up like a sack of flour! In other words, he forced her all the way back to the house.

"What the Hell is your damn problem?" Amos yelled at his wife, when they were in the house. He closed the door and stood in front of it. He sounded extremely angry, but tears were welling up in his brown eyes.

"I don't know, Amos." Leah began.

"Don't say you don't know! You do!" He shouted. "Why do you keep doing this?...As weak as he is now...You could've killed the boy, Leah!"

"I DON'T KNOW!" She screamed at him. Tears began to flood her eyes. "I just get into these moods sometimes...I don't know what's wrong with me!...I'm sorry...I'm sorry!" She was weeping and brushed past him and went into their bedroom. Amos followed her and saw her sobbing on the bed. He hated seeing her like this. He wondered what could be wrong with her...He sat on their bed next to her and she layed her head on his chest and cried. Amos wrapped his arms around her. "It's gonna be all right...We'll take you into town to the doc as soon as we can...We'll get to the bottom of this." He soothed her, stroking her back, undoing hairpins from her brown hair that was put into a neat bun, and let her hair cascade down her back. With one hand, he caressed her cheek and brushed back a few tendrils of hair that were in her face. "I'll stay with you like this all day if I have to." Amos whispered. She denied it. "No...You go eat your breakfast...Its all set out...Bring the boy in...I don't care...I'll just go change into my nightgown and rest awhile...I...I think it might do me some good...I'm feeling quite tired right now." Amos leaned forward and his lips captured hers in a kiss. "Ok." He whispered at last.

Amos walked out to the barn to call Fred in for breakfast. He hoped the boy might be strong enough now to come back inside the house. That is, if he wanted to. When Amos walked inside the barn, the boy was gone, and there was a note laying on the pile of straw that was covered by a worn, old blanket. Mr. Beck picked up the piece of paper and began to read it...

Dear Amus,

I'm leavin' here and I'm sure ya kno why. I can't tak this aniemor. Where I'l go? I'm not sure. I'l jest travel around. Maybe visit Jurrmeny. I was born there, ya kno. I'l jest go wher my legs take me, I reckon.

I'd like to thank you for wantin' to bee in my life. I'm know I'm not much for readin' or ritin', but thanks fore puttin' me in skool thru tha yeers. Ya kno I'm not much of a church goeur, or wer ever much for goin too Sundaey Skool, or fore readin' God's Wurd, but thanks fore takin' me to church when ya cuid.

Thanks fore puttin' so much effurt in my life. I realy wish I cuid've caled ya, 'Pa.' Never got used to the idea. Didn't sem rite. But ya were the closest thing I had fore a Pa, and I thank ya fore that.

Goodbie,

Fred John Lay

"I wish ya could've called me 'Pa' too, son." Amos thought out loud. He folded Fred's letter and put it in his back pocket. "I wouldn't blame the boy for leavin' either...The way he's been treated. I'd wanna leave too." He thought.

A/N: Of course, I meant Fred's letter to be misspelled for some words. To make it seem like it was poorly written and that he didn't get much of an education.