As the World Churns Read Online Free Page B

Dorfman brothers’ cattle carrier. “Before you go, take a peek in there. You’re never going to see Holsteins as fine as those two.”
        “You wanna bet?”
        “With entries like this, the Hernia Holstein Competition is destined for world-class status.”
        Dick gently edged his wife aside and stood facing me, nose to nose. “We have two entries as well. Both of them are from the finest bloodlines available, and conform perfectly to the standard. Miss Yoder, we’re not going anywhere. Now where do we pasture our cows?”
        I quickly turned my head so that my smug smile-admittedly a sin-wouldn’t be seen. It was going to be a fine competition.
4
        As Mama used to say, “There is no rest for the wicked.” No sooner had I gotten both couples settled in, and their cows pastured, than a third truck pulled down my long gravel lane. This vehicle, however, had seen better days, as had the cattle carrier. However, the couple that emerged was quite attractive in an offbeat way.
        Vance Brown-he immediately introduced himself-was approaching middle age, and short in stature, but he still had a full head of dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard and mustache. His wife, Candy Brown, was a willowy strawberry blonde whose delicate features were all but hidden by a galaxy of freckles. They both seemed as friendly as dogs at suppertime, and I looked forward to getting to know them better.
        On their registration form, I had Vance down as a dairy farmer, but agreeable as she was, I just couldn’t see Candy mucking out a barn or scrubbing milk vats. Since subtle interrogation appears to be one of my few God-given talents, I decided to give it a try.
        “What’s your shtick, Candy?”
        “Pardon me?”
        You see? Ida’s bad habits were rubbing off on me. Where was the soft-spoken Mennonite lass from yesteryear? I tried again.
        “Are you employed outside the home, dear?”
        “Not anymore. We have three children, and one in the oven. Getting away for competition is a real treat for me.”
        I gave her a second, more careful look. Her tummy was as flat as a thin-crust pizza. If she gave birth any time soon, it would have to be to a paper doll-unless she literally meant that she had one in an oven somewhere.
        “You don’t say.”
        “Candy keeps herself in great shape,” Vance said, his voice filled with pride. “Tell her what you used to do, sweetie.”
        Candy’s deep blush appeared to connect her freckles. “I’d rather not.”
        “Aw, come on, sweet cakes.”
         “Nah.”
        “Oh, come on, cinnamon roll,” I said. If you’re going to use pastries as forms of endearment, you may as well be specific.
        “All right, if you insist.”
         “Which I do. But just so you know, that was one of those giant cinnamon rolls with cream cheese icing on top. You know, the kind you find at airports.”
        Candy took a deep breath and looked away. “I was a pole-dancer.”
        I prayed for a gentle tongue. “You do know, don’t you, that dancing is a sin? But as regards your nationality, you ought not to be embarrassed; I’ve known many fine Poles in my life. And a few good Lithuanians as well.”
        Vance suppressed a laugh, which annoyed me to no end.
        “Well, I have,” I snapped. “Shame on you, Mr. Brown. Your children are half Polish, so if you look down on this lovely woman-”
        “Not that kind of pole!”
        I clapped my hands to my face in dismay. “Oh no. Don’t tell me that now there’s a dance hall in Antarctica.”
        “Miss Yoder, you’re a hoot.”
         “And a holler. But this isn’t at all funny; sin never is. Because the Bible tells us to carry salvation to the ends of the earth, I’ve often wondered about sin down there. I mean, I sort of knew there had to be sin going on in Antarctica, given all the