Chapter 3

He grabbed me by the shoulders and slammed me against the wall. The bread dough fell to the floor with a wet slap.

"Jakob, no!" I screamed. "She put it there! Esther put it in my pocket!"

"Liar!" he roared, his hands tightening. "You are damned!"

My mother screamed, a sound of pure terror.

I knew what was coming next. I couldn't let it happen again.

I twisted out of his grip, scratching and kicking. He was stronger, but my fear gave me speed. I ducked under his arm and ran.

I burst out the front door and sprinted across the yard, my bare feet pounding against the hard-packed dirt.

"Get her!" I heard Jakob yell behind me.

I didn't look back. I just ran, heading for the long gravel driveway that led to the main road. Our nearest neighbor, Mr. Henderson, an "English" farmer, lived just down that road. I had to get there. I had to find someone who wasn't under the locket's spell.

My father appeared from the barn, his face a storm cloud. He saw Jakob chasing me and immediately joined the pursuit.

"Stop, Sarah!" he bellowed in Pennsylvania Dutch. "You cannot escape God's judgment!"

Their shouts echoed across the fields. I could hear the pounding of their boots getting closer.

I reached the road just as Mr. Henderson's pickup truck was pulling out of his driveway. He saw me, a frantic woman in a simple dress being chased by two furious men. He slammed on his brakes.

"Help me!" I screamed, running towards his truck. "Please, they're trying to hurt me!"

My father and Jakob stopped short at the edge of our property line, their faces filled with rage.

Mr. Henderson got out of his truck, a confused and worried look on his face. "What in God's name is going on here, Thomas?"

My father, Jakob, tried to compose himself, smoothing down his shirt. "It is a family matter, Mr. Henderson. My daughter... she is not well. Her time in the city has confused her mind."

"I'm not confused!" I yelled, pointing to the red marks already forming on my arms where Jakob had grabbed me. "Look! They attacked me! Call the sheriff, please!"

Mr. Henderson looked from my bruised arms to my father's strained face. He pulled out his phone. "I think the sheriff should sort this out."